Playing With Fire
by GirlInTheMirror121
Summary: Kurt's in love with the flames, the flames oh so pretty. How far will his tango with the flames go before Kurt gets hurt by them? After all, little boys who play with fire get their fingers burned. Please Read & Review. I appreciate it. COMPLETE.
1. Little Boys Who Play With Fire

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee.**

**Note: Soooo…I've started a new one. This one will be a few chapters at least; not sure yet. It depends on if you lovely readers want me to continue this or not. So do you? (Yes, I'm still working on A Kartie Story. Most of it is already typed up; I just need to separate it into chapters. Be sure to check out my other Glee stories!)**

Kurt Hummel gazed at the candle that was slowly burning in his room. The flames, orange and yellow, flickered, their reflection showing in Kurt's bright blue-grey eyes. He stared into the flames, wishing they would swallow him up. He reached out and quickly moved his hand over the flame, feeling the heat warm him up. It felt enticing and welcoming. He needed to touch that flame, to let it burn him, to scorch him. He needed it to hurt him, to fixate the pain somewhere else other than his mind. He needed to punish himself, and he needed to do it now.

Kurt stuck his pointer finger into the flame with determination. He sighed as he felt the familiar flames tickle his skin. He pulled the finger away as soon as he knew a definite blister had formed, for he knew if his family smelt the skin burning, they'd be rushing in, concerned. And Kurt did not want their concern.

_You see, Kurt was a pyromaniac._

Kurt hadn't always been in love with the flames

_It all started after his mother died._

That's when the pain started. It started with his mother leaving him. From there, it only escalated; coming out, being bullied, falling in love with straight boys…Kurt could never find relief. He could never find any way to rid of the pain in his heart.  
Except from the flames.

The flames were the only thing that Kurt loved that he knew loved him back. They were the only thing that Kurt could rely on one-hundred percent of the time. They were his best friend, holding his hand. They were his lover, caressing him in the dark night.

They were all he had.

Kurt watched happily as the newly formed blister on his finger bubbled and grew. He was immune to the pain of it all by now; you burn yourself once, you've burned yourself a thousand times, he thought to himself. He pushed back his sleeve, admiring the burn marks that ran up and down his arm. They weren't big enough to notice just by looking at him, but they were there. The scars were all there, on his arms, on his fingers. Kurt was able to fade the worst ones with scar crème, but some of them, he did not bother to hide. They were the ones he was the most proud of, the ones that carried his most painful memories. They were the ones that were his reminders of who he was. They _were_ him.

He picked up the candle, gazing once again into the pretty flames. Oh, so pretty. Kurt found it hard to tear his eyes away from them.

"Little boys who play with fire get their fingers burned," he said to himself with a smile. With that, he blew out the candle, watching the smoke rise and obscure his reflection in the mirror that lay before him. When the smoke cleared, all that was left was a thin wisp of what Kurt Hummel had become:

In love with the flames.


	2. The First Hit

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Note: Only one review? Sadness. So, more reviews, please? I'm really quite proud of this piece, and I hate to think that it's going unread. **

_So how did it all happen?_

_How did Kurt get to this point?_

It all started when Kurt was eight years old. His dad came into his room, crying.

"Kurt, buddy, your mother's been in a bad car accident. She's in the hospital; grab your coat, we're going to see her." Kurt didn't have the time to think; he just grabbed his coat wordlessly and hurried after his father.

They were both silent on the way to the hospital. Kurt was fearful for his mother's life, but he tried to stay strong for his dad. Kurt trailed behind him once they arrived at the hospital, staring down at the floor, trying not to think. He quietly pressed the button in the elevator that would take him to his mother.

The woman in the hospital bed wasn't his mother. She was a hollow shell of what he knew to be this mother. Kurt swallowed hard. His mother was hooked up to several machines, and her eyes were closed. He grabbed his father's hand for strength. Burt led his only son over to his wife's bedside.

"Mommy?" Kurt asked. She didn't respond; of course, she didn't respond.

He looked up at his dad. "Can she hear me?"

"I don't know, Kurt," Burt said. Kurt let go of his father's hand and started to hold his mother's hand instead.

"Mommy, it's me, Kurt," he whispered. "Please wake up, Mommy!"

Burt put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. The doctor came in the room. "If you don't mind, may I have a word with you, Mr. Hummel?"

"Yes, of course," Burt said quickly. "Kurt, why don't you go out in the waiting room down the hall? I'll come back for you in a few minutes."

Kurt squeezed his mother's hand before leaving the cold, unfriendly hospital room. He wandered down the hall towards the waiting room that they'd passed by on the way in. He peered into some of the other rooms on the way.

One room in particular caught his eye. Lying in the bed was a boy, about Kurt's age. He had glasses and hair just about the color of Kurt's. Kurt was somehow drawn into this room, this boy. He wandered in, curious.

"Uh, hi. My name's Kurt," he said to the boy.  
"I'm Artie," the boy said.

"Why are you in the hospital?" Kurt asked.

"I got in a bad accident, and now my legs don't work right."

"Oh," Kurt said quietly. "My mommy was just in a bad accident, too."

"I'm sorry," Artie said. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"I dunno," Kurt said. "She's sleeping or something."

There was an awkward pause. Kurt noticed the wheelchair that was parked in the corner of the room, and pointed to it.

"Is that yours?"

Artie followed Kurt's gaze. "Yep."

"That's cool," Kurt said. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

"No, my sister did," Artie said, rolling his eyes a little.

"I like it," Kurt said, going for a closer inspection.

"Thanks," Artie said. "It's different, but I guess I'll get used to it."

"So how old are you?" Kurt asked.

"Eight and a half," Artie beamed proudly.

"I'm eight, too," Kurt said, smiling back a little.

"Cool."  
Burt ran by, spotting Kurt in this stranger's room. "Kurt, there you are!"

"Sorry, daddy, I guess I just sort of got distracted. This is Artie."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Artie said.

Burt nodded at Artie. "You too, son. Come on, Kurt. I need you to come with me to your mother's room."

Kurt waved to Artie. "Bye, Artie!"

Artie waved back. "Bye, Kurt."

Kurt trotted after his father, whom he'd noticed had been crying. Once they reached Mrs. Hummel's room, Burt took Kurt's hands in his own.

"Kurt, what I'm about to say isn't easy. The doctors don't think your mother is going to wake up. We're going to have to let her go now."  
"Go where?" Kurt asked worriedly.

"To Heaven," Burt said, eyes tearing up once again.

"Oh," Kurt said in a small voice. He began to cry, and Burt pulled him into a hug, a rare moment of fatherly affection coming from him.

"We have to be strong, buddy, for your mother. This is what she would've wanted." The doctor came back into the room.

"We're ready whenever you are," he said gently.

"Daddy? Can I have a minute alone with Mommy?" Kurt asked, sniffling.

"Sure, buddy." He left the room with the doctor, leaving Kurt alone with his mother.

"Mommy, why do you have to go?" Kurt asked, whimpering. "I don't want you to go! You just can't go! I'm only eight!" He sniffled, wiping the snot from his nose with his sleeve. "I love you, Mommy. I love you so much!" He tried to hug her over all of the wires and tubes going into her broken body. Kurt wept for his mother, for his father, for himself. He wept for the memories he'd never have, and for the ones he'd have to keep.

"You ready, Kurt?" Burt asked, coming in the room. He gently pried Kurt off his mother's body, and Kurt buried his face in his dad's shirt. Burt nodded to the doctor, who flipped the switch on the machines off, and allowing Mrs. Hummel to slip away quietly. Kurt couldn't watch the life leave his mother; he just kept his face in his dad's shirt, leaving it stained with tears and sorrow.

His mother's funeral was a few days later. Kurt kept in silence, not wanting to speak, for fear that he'd begin crying again, and he knew he had to be strong, for his father. He clutched the candle he was holding, a vigil for his mother in Heaven. His hands slipped, and he found himself lighting touching the flame.

Oh, how enticing that touch was! Kurt fixed his grip on the candle, and stared ahead at the minister, who was speaking at the pulpit. But he couldn't rid his mind of how good that light brush with the flames had felt. He looked slightly to his left, then to his right. He shifted the candle to one hand, leaving his other hand free. He carefully lowered his finger down into the flames, feeling the warmth of them.

"Kurt, stop that!" His grandmother hissed. "You could get hurt!" Kurt guiltily pulled his finger away, but looked longingly at the flames that were still flickering.

It was too late.

_That was his first hit. _

And now that he'd taken his first taste of the flames, there was no going back.


	3. Love The Way You Lie

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any songs that may be used in this chapter.**

**Note: Thanks for all the great reviews! Keep 'em coming! **

**Note2: Also, shout-out to Sarah! She suggested I use this song for this story. **

"Does anyone have any songs they've been working on? I want to get a feel of where you all are at before Sectionals," Mr. Schuester said, addressing the group.

Kurt raised his hand. "I have something," he said. "But I'll need Artie's help on this one." Artie looked at Kurt. "Why me?"

"You're the best rapper in Glee," Kurt said simply. "No offense, guys." He whispered what song he wanted to do to Artie, and Artie nodded.

"Well, whenever you two are ready, then," Mr. Schue said. The others applauded in support, curious to see what song these two could possibly be performing.

Kurt stood up and began to sing from his spot, making his way to the front of the room as he sang each line.

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts  
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
But that's alright because I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie_

No one but Kurt knew why he'd selected this song. Mr. Schuester frowned, knowing how controversial the song had been when it hit the airwaves last year. Finn frowned as well, not sure where his stepbrother was going with this one. Kurt had made his way to Artie by now, who began the rap bit of the song.

_I can't tell you what it really is  
I can only tell you what it feels like_  
_And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe  
I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight  
As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight_

Rachel exchanged a glance with Finn. She was known to not get along with Kurt, but she couldn't help but to think why he'd chosen this song, and why he'd chosen Artie to sing it with. Maybe Kurt was…nah, she decided. Kurt wasn't in love with Artie.  
_  
High off of love, drunk from my hate,  
It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate  
And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me  
She freaking hates me and I love it.  
Wait! Where you going?  
"I'm leaving you"  
No you ain't. Come back we're running right back._

Mr. Schue frowned again. He was proud of Artie for censoring the obscenities, but he still couldn't figure out why Kurt had chosen this song, of all songs, to sing in Glee that day. He hoped Kurt wasn't being abused by someone he cared about.  
_  
Here we go again  
It's so insane cause when it's going good, it's going great  
I'm Superman with the wind at his back, she's Lois Lane  
But when it's bad it's awful, I feel so ashamed I snapped  
Who's that dude? I don't even know his name  
I laid hands on her, I'll never stoop so low again  
I guess I don't know my own strength_

Artie looked at Kurt, questioning how he was doing so far. Kurt gave a slight nod of approval, and turned back towards the group. He took a breath and sang the next verse.

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts  
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
But that's alright because I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie_

If only they knew, he thought. If only they knew why I chose this song. If only they knew about my love for the flames, for the burning. If only they could see what was really inside me, torment and despair, longing and loss. He looked at Artie, who started again.

_You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe  
When you're with 'em  
You meet and neither one of you even know what hit 'em  
Got that warm fuzzy feeling  
Yeah, them chills you used to get 'em_

Some of the kids nodded; they knew this feeling. Rachel knew it for Puck, and Santana for Brittany. Tina and Mike knew it for each other, and they took each other's hands, as Tina looked at her ex-boyfriend with appreciation.  
_  
Now you're getting freaking sick of looking at 'em  
You swore you'd never hit 'em; never do nothing to hurt 'em  
Now you're in each other's face spewing venom in your words when you spit them  
You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, hit 'em  
Throw 'em down, pin 'em  
So lost in the moments when you're in them_

Rachel nodded again. That felt somewhat like her relationship with Jesse, she couldn't help but to think, and later, for Finn. Will Schuester couldn't help but to think of his ex-wife, Terri, and how those lyrics pertained to the end of their marriage.  
_  
It's the rage that took over it controls you both  
So they say you're best to go your separate ways  
Guess if they don't know you 'cause today that was yesterday  
Yesterday is over, it's a different day  
Sound like broken records playing over but you promised her_

Will looked off into the distance. How had he never really listened to these lyrics before? Maybe it was that he hadn't really heard the song since his divorce. He sighed, running his hand over his face. This was all a little too real to him.  
_  
Next time you show restraint  
You don't get another chance  
Life is no Nintendo game  
But you lied again  
Now you get to watch her leave out the window  
Guess that's why they call it window pane_

Mercedes stole a glance at Kurt, noticing how stoic he was being. She found this odd, considering how emotional Kurt tended to be while performing. She hoped nothing was wrong with him, and if something was, why he wasn't telling her.

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts  
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
But that's alright because I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie_

Mr. Schuester took the opportunity to look at Kurt now. He heard the sudden burst of emotion behind Kurt's voice, especially during the line "but that's alright because I like the way it hurts". He hoped Kurt wasn't turning to self-injury to vent his feelings. Artie exploded into the final bit of the song.

_Now I know we said things, did things that we didn't mean  
And we fall back into the same patterns, same routine  
But your temper's just as bad as mine is  
You're the same as me  
But when it comes to love you're just as blinded_

Quinn looked at Finn; was he, too, thinking about their relationship from the past? Was he still angry with her for cheating on him with Puck? Did he want her back, now that Rachel was out of the picture, and Sam was with Santana?  
_  
Baby, please come back  
It wasn't you, baby it was me  
Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems  
Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano  
All I know is I love you too much to walk away though_

Rachel looked at Finn, too. She was missing him more than ever these days. Every word that Artie was rapping, she felt in her heart. She felt every single word in her soul, in every fiber of her body, and she began to tear up.  
_  
Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk  
Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk  
I told you this is my fault  
Look me in the eyeball  
Next time I'm pissed, I'll aim my fist at the drywall_

Finn didn't know where to look. His two ex-girlfriends were staring at him, and his stepbrother was in front of him breaking down slowly. He settled his problem by looking down at the floor, picking at a loose thread on his shirt.  
_  
Next time. There won't be no next time  
I apologize even though I know it's lies  
I'm tired of the games I just want her back  
I know I'm a liar  
If she ever tries to freaking leave again  
Im'a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire  
I'm just gonna…_

Kurt summoned up all of his courage to sing this last verse. If only they knew how much he could relate to this song, how much he'd been playing it on his iPod within the last few weeks. He tried not to cry as he tore into the last verse of the song.

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn  
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts  
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry  
But that's alright because I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie  
I love the way you lie_

There was silence in the choir room for several moments, before the club burst into applause. Several members exchanged glances, ranging from worried to apologetic.

"Well, boys, that was…that was great," Mr. Schuester said. "But Kurt, do you mind if I ask why you chose that song to sing today?"

Kurt shook his head. "It's just been playing on my iPod a lot lately. Besides, it's domestic violence awareness month, and this song is a good example of how rap music glorifies things such as domestic abuse."

"That's an interesting point," Mr. Schue said. "How many of you guys know someone who has been in an abusive relationship before?" Nearly all of the kids raised their hands, Kurt included. Mr. Schue raised his own hand, too. "Do you want to make this a domestic violence awareness themed week?" He asked.

The kids nodded wordlessly. They'd had success with their alcohol awareness week, so maybe this week would drive home another important message.

After Glee, Artie stayed behind to talk to Kurt. "Kurt…can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said, not quite looking at Artie.

"Who have you known who's been in an abusive relationship?"

Kurt froze. "Oh, just a friend," he said quickly. "Excuse me." He ran out of the room.

Artie frowned. He didn't know Kurt to be a liar. What had gotten into him, anyway?

_The flames._


	4. Tell Me Why

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Taylor Swift's songs.**

**Note: OMGLEE, thanks for the amazing reviews! They made my morning! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this one. Please keep reading and reviewing!**

"Does anyone have anything to contribute to our domestic violence awareness week?" Mr. Schuester asked, addressing the group. They all looked at each other, none of them wanting to be the first ones to go. "Anyone?" Mr. Schue asked.

Rachel stood up. "I have something, Mr. Schuester."

"Awesome! Well, take it away, Rachel."

Rachel handed the sheet music to Brad, their pianist. She sighed and turned to face the kids. "I've chosen a classic song by the great Taylor Swift to express this week's theme," she began. "And I'd like to dedicate this song to someone. He knows who he is…well, at least, I hope he knows who he is," she said, hanging her head. She took another breath before nodding to the band, who started to play.

_I took a chance, I took a shot  
And you might think I'm bulletproof, but I'm not  
You took a swing, I took it hard  
And down here from the ground I see who you are_

The Glee kids looked around the room at each other. They, so far, did not know who Rachel was singing this about. Jesse, they deduced. But wasn't Rachel over Jesse? The only other person she'd been linked to was Finn…oh, well, and Puck. Puck crossed his arms, showing off his guns, while Finn looked nervously at Quinn.

_I'm sick and tired of your attitude  
I'm feeling like I don't know you  
You tell me that you love me then you cut me down  
And I need you like a heartbeat  
But you know you got a mean streak  
Makes me run for cover when you're around_

Jesse, the club decided. This song must be about Jesse. They could tell by the look on Rachel's face and the passion behind her voice. Kurt twiddled with his fingers. Maybe this awareness week was a bad idea, he thought. Maybe I shouldn't have lied to Mr. Schuester when I said why I chose Love the Way You Lie. Maybe I'm getting in over my head here…maybe…maybe…

_And here's to you and your temper  
Yes, I remember what you said last night  
And I know that you see what you're doing to me  
Tell me why…_

Mr. Schuester smiled slightly. Now he understood why this song pertained to this week's theme. He'd never heard the song before, not being that big of a Taylor Swift fan (although, he couldn't help to think, she's a much better role model than Britney Spears). But the more Rachel sang, the more he was enjoying this.

_You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day  
Well, I get so confused and frustrated  
Forget what I'm trying to say, oh_

Rachel was beginning to pick up more steam, looking at each of the kids in turn, giving an exceptionally burning glare at Finn. He recoiled in response to the fire burning behind her eyes, expecting them to smolder and burn into his soul. Okay, he thought. Maybe this song isn't about Jesse like I thought.

_I'm sick and tired of your reasons  
I got no one to believe in  
You tell me that you want me, then push me around  
And I need you like a heartbeat  
But you know you got a mean streak  
Makes me run for cover when you're around_

They were all looking at Finn now, even Mr. Schuester. They now knew who this song was dedicated to, and why Rachel was giving Finn a death glare, the one she had patented (and had made a trademark symbol), after every line that she was singing.

_Here's to you and your temper  
Yes, I remember what you said last night  
And I know that you see what you're doing to me  
Tell me why…_

Finn had half a mind to tell Rachel exactly "why", but he couldn't just interrupt her song. He knew that if he did, she would only end up screaming at him, and probably storming out of the club for the eighty-sixth time since it started. And with Sectionals on the rise, they really couldn't afford to lose her.

_Why...do you have to make me feel small  
So you can feel whole inside  
Why...do you have to put down my dreams  
So you're the only thing on my mind_

Kurt rolled his eyes slightly, pulling at a loose thread on his bag, gently tugging it free. He distracted himself by smoothing out an imaginary crease in his shirt. Mercedes leaned over and whispered to him. "You okay?" He nodded, then tilted his head towards Rachel, indicating that they should be listening to her.

_I'm sick and tired of your attitude  
I'm feeling like I don't know you  
You tell me that you want me then cut me down  
I'm sick and tired of your reasons  
I've got no one to believe in  
You ask me for my love then you push me around_

Finn started fidgeting uncomfortably. He definitely wasn't ready for the talk he knew he'd be having with Rachel after this. She knew very well that he broke up with her not because of Quinn, or because of Santana, but because she'd cheated on him with Puck.

_Here's to you and your temper  
Yes, I remember what you said last night  
And I know that you see what you're doing to me  
Tell me why  
Why, tell me why_

_I take a step back; let you go  
I told you I'm not bulletproof  
Now you know_

The club applauded, and Rachel bowed. She walked up to Finn and looked him directly in the eye. "Tell me why," she said in a low, scary voice.

"Not now, Rach," Finn hissed.

She stomped over to her seat, leaving the other kids with confused looks on their faces. Kurt hummed to himself, examining the latest blister on his finger. Mercedes leaned over again. "Hey, boo, what'd you do to yourself?" She asked, taking his hand in hers.

"Ah, burned myself when I was getting the toast out of the toaster this morning," Kurt said. Mercedes gave a sympathetic wince. "I'll be fine," he said, off her look.

_**That night**_

Kurt ended up downloading the song Rachel sang onto his iPod when he got home from school. He spent most of the afternoon and the evening alternating listening to that and Love the Way You Lie. He softly hummed along to the song, tapping his foot in the air as he lay back on his bed. "Told you I'm not bulletproof, now you know," he sang to himself, pushing back his sleeve as he did. He admired the patterns the burn marks made on his arms. Some of them had left funny shapes. One, Kurt thought, looked like a lopsided cow. Another looked like a lamp.

Kurt climbed out of bed, making sure the door was locked before lighting a candle. He struck the match, watching it ignite. He stared at the flames hungrily for a moment before lowering it to the candle. He quickly pressed "repeat" on Tell Me Why, and held the candle tightly in his hands. He moaned softly as he stared into the bright flames. _Just do it, just do it,_ his mind said. He pressed the flames to his forearm, quickly and expertly. He sighed in relief at the warm, burning pain he felt. "Yes," he whispered. After several moments, he took the candle away. The burn that he'd left behind, the burn that the flames had etched into his arm, had left the shape of a question mark. Kurt chuckled at the irony of it all. "Tell me why," he sang quietly.

_The flames, again._


	5. Concrete Angel

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Also, I don't own "Concrete Angel". **

**Note: Third song-based chapter in a row, I know. I'll try to break it up in the next chapter. My friend sent me a ton of songs that relate to this week's Glee "theme", and I'll try to use what I can. I want the songs to match the student's personality and personal story, if that makes sense. Oh, and thanks for the great reviews!**

Mr. Schue sighed. "Well, yesterday's rehearsal certainly was interesting." The club turned and glared at Rachel, who wouldn't look back at them. "I hesitate to ask, but does anyone else have a domestic abuse-related song they'd like to share with us?" To their surprise, it was Tina who raised her hand. "Tina?" Mr. Schue asked, perplexed.

"I have a song," she said. "A serious one this time," she said, recalling the last solo she'd done, which was My Funny Valentine; she'd broken down not even half-way through the song, and they'd all been a bit freaked out.

"That's great; go ahead," Will said.

With a sweep of her long black skirt, she strode confidently to the front of the room. "This is one of my personal favorite songs. It's more about child abuse than about boyfriend/girlfriend abuse, or spousal abuse, but I think it'll work. It's called Concrete Angel, by Martina McBride."

_She walks to school with the lunch she packed  
Nobody knows what she's holdin' back  
Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday  
She hides the bruises with linen and lace_

Kurt instinctively slid down in his seat, tugging on his shirt sleeves. Somewhere across the room, Santana was doing the same thing, unbeknownst to Kurt. Kurt could sense he was in for an uncomfortable few minutes as he listened to this song that he could relate so much to right now. _Nobody knows what I'm holding back_, he sung in his mind.

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask  
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask  
Bearing the burden of a secret storm  
Sometimes she wishes she was never born_

Mr. Schue looked at Kurt, then at Santana. He noticed both of them acting oddly out of character; Santana was slouched down so far in her seat that her butt was hanging off the edge, and Kurt had pulled his hat down over his eyes, which were closed. _The teacher wonders, but she doesn't ask…_ Meanwhile, Kurt and Santana were both wishing they'd never been born.

_Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel_

Replace "she" with "he", Kurt thought, and it could almost be me. Except I'll never fly to a place where I'm loved. I'm not loved, not at all. At least the "stands hard as a stone in a world that she can't rise above" part pertained to me, he thought, as the voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he wasn't good enough, never good enough.

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night  
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights  
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate  
When morning comes it'll be too late_

Kurt hid behind his hands, trying to push it all away. This song was all too real to him, even more real than Tell Me Why was, and almost as real as Love the Way You Lie was. He balled his hands into fists, pushing them against his eyes, as if trying to rub out the memories forever. But of course, he couldn't do that. He never could do that.

_Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel_

Santana looked away. She couldn't look at Sam, or even at Brittany. She really, really couldn't look at Brittany. She saw her holding hands with Artie, and she couldn't stand it, she just couldn't stand the sight of them together. What didn't Brittany get about her heartfelt confession to her? Why couldn't Brittany understand that Santana wanted her, just her, and only her, forever?

_A statue stands in a shaded place  
An angel girl with an upturned face  
A name is written on a polished rock  
A broken heart that the world forgot_

That's me, Kurt thought. A broken heart that this cold, cruel world has forgotten. They forgot about me a long time ago; turned their backs on me a long time ago. How long would it be, he thought in the recesses of his mind, would it be before I end up the name on that polished rock?

_Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel_

Kurt couldn't stand it anyone, just couldn't stand it anymore. As much as he loved Tina, he couldn't sit here and listen to her sing this song anymore. He stood up as she sang "but her dreams give her wings". By the time she was singing "and she flies to a place where she's loved," he was walking out of the room. And by the time she sang the final "concrete angel," Kurt was out the door and down the hall. He could feel their stares the entire time, but he didn't care. He just needed to get out of there, to get back to his flames, to what he knew and loved so well. He heard footsteps behind him, surely one of the Glee kids, but he started to run. "Kurt, wait!" He heard Finn call out. But Kurt didn't wait, he just kept running until he was out of the building, far away from those who cared about him (cared too much, Kurt couldn't help but to think).

He ducked behind the dumpster…oh, that dumpster, he thought. How many times had he been tossed into its depths? He reached around in his bag for what he needed, what he wanted. "Oh, thank God," he whispered, locating the book of matches. He quickly lit one and stared at it, at the flames. He threw it on the gravel and watched it burn out slowly. He struck another one and stared at it again. This time, he lit a stray piece of paper on fire, watching the words crumble. He watched as an old French test crackled and burned, the verbs becoming a meaningless jumble as they smoldered into nothing. He lit just one more match and threw it into the dumpster before running like hell. What had made him do that?

_Flames._


	6. Alyssa Lies

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Alyssa Lies".**

**Note: Just a quick reference on time for this story: this takes place after "Original Song". Chris Colfer let it slip at PaleyFest that Kurt's coming back to New Directions soon ("Like you didn't know!" he said), so that would explain why he's here with mentions of the Brittany/Santana/Artie triangle. Also, this is under the assumption that Klaine—as much as I love it—never happened. Additionally, picture the Kurt from season 1 in terms of style and hairdo. (Oh, and thanks for the reviews! They're so positive!)**

"Santana, may I talk to you for a minute, please?" Will Schuester asked the pretty Latina.

"I guess," she said, following him into his office.

He sighed. "Santana, I noticed you were very…emotional…during Tina's song in Glee yesterday. Are you okay? You've been acting a bit out of sorts lately."

"I'm just fine," Santana huffed. "What, a girl can't get emotional over a sad song once in a while?"

"You were practically on the floor," Mr. Schue said.

"Cramps," she lied effortlessly. "That's _why_ I was so emotional. It's called PMS."

"All right," Mr. Schue said, not quite buying the lie. "But if there's anything you ever want to talk about, you know where to find me."

"Whatever," she groaned, getting up and leaving the tiny office.

Mr. Schue sighed. One down, one to go, he thought. Thankfully, Kurt was passing by his office right then. Will flagged him down. "Kurt, come here for a minute."

Kurt sighed and backtracked to the choir director. "Yes?"

"Come on in for a minute," Mr. Schue said warmly. Kurt looked away down the hall at Mercedes, who was motioning for him to hurry up.

"It's just for a minute," Schue said.

Kurt turned around wordlessly and walked into the office. He sat down in the familiar chair silently and folded his hands in his lap.

Mr. Schuester sat atop his desk. "Kurt, how are you doing?" he asked gently.

Kurt shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I'm just…you know…getting used to being back here again. After Dalton, and being around boys all the time…and living there…it's a hard adjustment coming back to this…" he let his voice trail off.

"Is that all, Kurt?"

"Yes, why?"

Mr. Schue sighed. "Kurt, you can't ignore the fact that you walked out of rehearsal yesterday in the middle of Tina's song. We all saw you do it."

Kurt forced himself to stare into his teacher's eyes. "I don't deny that it happened."

"Why _did_ it happen?" Mr. Schue prompted.

Kurt shrugged again. "I needed a moment. That song was, you know, emotional. And, um, Martina McBride was one of my mother's favorite singers. And this…that song…reminded me of her. I couldn't handle it, so I had to leave."

"Kurt, why didn't you just say so?" Mr. Schue said, apologetic.

"I didn't want their sympathy," Kurt said frankly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to lunch before Mercedes stages another uprising about Tater Tots."

Mr. Schue nodded, waving Kurt off. He turned on his iPod, flipping through some of his songs until he found the one he was looking for. "Perfect," he muttered.

Later that day, there was yet another Glee rehearsal. "If you guys don't mind," Mr. Schue said, addressing the club, "I'd like to sing a song myself today. You guys have just inspired me too much. Tina, your song reminded me of another country song that I really enjoy. I'd like to play it for you guys. Puck, if I may borrow your guitar skills?"

"Yeah, sure," Puck said proudly. He grabbed his infamous guitar and went to the front of the room to sit next to the curly haired choir teacher.

"This is dedicated to two very special people," Mr. Schue said.

_My little girl met a new friend  
Just the other day  
On the playground at school  
Between the tires and the swings  
But she came home with tear-filled eyes  
And she said to me "Daddy, Alyssa lies"_

Kurt slunk down in his chair again. _Of fucking course,_ he thought. He couldn't ignore the fact that this song had magically come up after Mr. Schue had just talked to him about his "strange" behavior yesterday. And he couldn't ignore the feeling that Mr. Schue hadn't believed the story about his mother, even though it was true.

_I just brushed it off at first  
Cause I didn't know how much my little girl had been hurt  
Or the things she had seen  
I wasn't ready when I said "you can tell me"  
And she said_

Mr. Schuester looked directly at Kurt and Santana now, who, as usual, weren't sitting anywhere near each other. He had to wonder why they never talked to one another, what the animosity there was. They were alike in more ways than they realized, he thought, and he didn't know how they didn't see it, too. He stared right at Kurt as he started the chorus.

_Alyssa lies  
To the classroom  
Alyssa lies  
Everyday at school  
Alyssa lies  
To the teachers  
As she tries to cover every bruise_

Stop staring at me, stop staring at me, stop staring at me, Kurt screamed in his mind. Please, stop staring at me. You don't know me, Will Schuester. You don't know my pain, and you don't know what I've been through. You just don't know at all. You can't even fathom it, even being the goody two shoes teacher that you are.

_My little girl laid her head down  
That night to go to sleep  
As I stepped out the room I heard her say  
A prayer so soft and sweet  
"God bless my mom and my dad  
And my new friend Alyssa  
I know she needs you bad"_

Kurt softly scoffed. Why did they always have to bring up religion around him? Didn't they realize that he wasn't into that sort of thing way back in the beginning of October, when his father had had his heart attack? Didn't they know by know that when he was hurting, it was best to just leave him alone?

Mr. Schue turned his attention to Santana now as he sang the second chorus.

_Alyssa lies  
To the classroom  
Alyssa lies  
Everyday at school  
Alyssa lies  
To the teachers  
As she tries to cover every bruise_

She looked away. She wasn't a liar…well, only when it was convenient. And today, it was convenient. She couldn't let Mr. Schuester know the truth of what she did while alone in her room every night. She couldn't even let her closest friends—wait, do I have those anymore? She thought—know what she was going through right now. They would not understand.

_I had the worst night of sleep in years  
As I tried to think of a way to calm her fears  
I knew exactly what I had to do  
But when we got to school on Monday I heard the news_

Kurt shuddered, and found himself hurtling into a flashback. "_No, please, stop_!" He screamed in his memory. "_Don't, please don't, don't do this…_" Kurt closed his eyes, hoping it would go away. But it wasn't going away; it wouldn't leave him, ever.

_My little girl asked me why everybody looked so sad  
The lump in my throat grew bigger  
With every question that she asked  
Until I felt the tears run down my face  
And I told her that Alyssa wouldn't be at school today_

Kurt started rocking back and forth as the memory slowly started to take over him. "_Please, you're hurting me! Oh, please stop!_" He put his hands over his ears, as if to block out the sounds of his own screams, even though they were in memory. Go away, go away, go away, he yelled at them.

_She doesn't lie  
In the classroom  
She doesn't lie  
Anymore at school  
Alyssa lies  
With Jesus  
Because there's nothing anyone would do_

Kurt was whimpering quietly by now, rocking back and forth in his corner chair. "_Take it like a man, faggot_," THAT voice. That voice, the voice that Kurt dreaded, the one that sent horrible shivers down his spine and tormented his darkest nightmares. "_Get up off the floor and take it like a man_,"

_Tears filled my eyes,  
When my little girl asked me why Alyssa lies  
"Daddy, tell me why  
Alyssa lies"_

Kurt was hunched up in the corner, rocking back and forth violently by now. He was only somewhat aware that they were all staring at him. "_Stop, please stop, you're scaring me!_" The Voice, again. "_Fucking faggot, why don't you just go kill yourself already?_" Kurt started crying at the memory. "_Please, stop, Da-_"

"NO!" Kurt cried aloud, collapsing to the floor in a heap of sobs. "No, no, no!"

Mr. Schue got up from his chair and ran over to Kurt. "What is it, Kurt?" he asked, kneeling down at the pale, fragile boy's side.

"No, no, no!" Kurt cried again. "No…no…no…"

Mercedes knelt down by Kurt's other side. "Kurt, honey, what's wrong?"

Kurt sat up suddenly, face streaked with tears. "What? I…I…nothing, I'm fine," he said quickly, standing up, getting a bit of a head rush as he did so.

Mr. Schue's brow furrowed. "Kurt, you were screaming 'no, no' at the top of your lungs. What is it? What's wrong? No, what?"

"I, um, had a flashback to the night my mother died," Kurt lied quietly.

Mr. Schue let out a sympathetic moan. "Mercedes, please take Kurt to the bathroom and make sure he's going to be okay."

She nodded, trying to lead Kurt out of the room. He pulled away from her. "I'll be fine, Mr. Schuester. God. Can…can I just go home now?"

Mr. Schue nodded. Kurt quickly hurried out of the room, and went straight home.

"I hope you're fucking happy now," he said to his reflection in the rearview mirror of his car. "I really hope you are."

_Flames, flames, flames._


	7. Twisted Ballerina

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Twisted Ballerina". **

**Note: My goodness, the reviews just keep coming in, don't they? To the readers who are wondering who "Da-" is, you'll find out soon enough. I have the next few chapters outlined and planned out, and let me tell you, some of them, I'm VERY excited to write. So, keep reading and reviewing, loyal fans!**

It was Day 5 of the domestic violence awareness project in the Glee Club, and emotions were high. Kurt and Santana were the ones who were obviously the most moved, although Rachel had shown some strong emotion during her solo performance the other day. They were all walking on eggshells around the most emotionally fragile of the bunch, knowing that the smallest thing could set them off.

"Well," Mr. Schue said. "Again, after yesterday, I'm hesitant to ask if anyone has anything to contribute to this project."

Brittany raised her hand. "Mike and I have been working on something," she said.

"Yeah, it's a song-and-dance routine," Mike piped up.

"That sounds great," Mr. Schuester said. "Well, why don't you show us?"

"Show us what?" Brittany asked innocently.

Mike nudged her. "Oh, our routine," Brittany giggled. They stood up and took their positions in the front of the room. Brittany wore a ballerina's tutu and leotard, both pink, with her hair up in a ballerina bun. She'd even put on toe shoes for the occasion. The club looked at her with interest; the more fashionable ones (Kurt, Mercedes) knew that the "ballerina look" was "in" due to the popularity of _Black Swan_, but this was interesting. Mike stood behind Brittany, pretending to "wind" her up, as if she were a doll.

_Little girl  
Little twisted ballerina  
Little steps  
Little twisted ballerina pirouettes  
Across the floor  
To the window where her  
Daddy watches from the corner of his eye  
And her uncle watches her thighs_

Kurt shuddered. Another child abuse song? He thought. That made the third one in a row. He couldn't help but to wonder if there was a reason why his classmates—and teacher, for that matter—were focusing on child abuse songs in particular. He watched as Brittany twirled around the floor, doing pirouettes and delicate jumps. Mike ran around her, acting as if he were controlling her every move.  
_  
Little girl  
Little twisted ballerina  
Dance_

The classroom was in dead silence, for once that week. They were enchanted by this stirring performance; they'd thought Mike and Brittany's previous dance duets had been amazing, but this one was amazing in an entirely different way. It was utterly heartbreaking and poignant, but at the same time, haunting and chilling. This contributed to the fact that Brittany was all in pink, while Mike was all in black. It was a great juxtaposition that paid off well.

_Well her Mom's at work down at the hospital today  
and her Daddy decides to cash his paycheck today  
and her uncle says "Sure, I'll watch your ballerina dance."  
Well, she's heard those words before_

No one dared to even breathe; this song was more explicit than both Concrete Angel and Alyssa Lies combined. There was something so sweetly innocent about the way Brittany was singing it. When combined with the way she was dancing, and the childlike quality of her outfit, it was powerful.

_She's seen that look before  
She's smelled his breath before  
She's felt his weight on her before  
This ballerina  
_  
Kurt shuddered again. The song was finally starting to hit him a little bit. Just replace the "she" with "he" in this verse, and it might as well be him. Of course, he was no ballerina—in fact, he could hardly dance at all—but he was as fragile as a ballerina in a music box, twirling around to the same, haunting song whenever you opened it.

_And when her Daddy leaves  
And when they're alone he says  
"I just bought a ticket to your show."  
_  
Santana couldn't help but to stare at Brittany now. She just looked so beautiful, so heartbreakingly and utterly beautiful, and Santana couldn't stand it. She was loving how the leotard hugged every curve, how she moved so gracefully across the floor. She wished, just for a second, that she could be Mike, dancing with her right now. What Santana Lopez wouldn't have given to be Artie, and have Brittany on her arm!

_Little girl  
Little twisted ballerina  
Dance  
_  
Mr. Schuester stole a glance at Santana, who was practically salivating over Brittany…or was it Mike? He watched Santana's eyes follow Brittany's every move, and came to know the truth: Santana had feelings for the pretty blonde. Perhaps, he thought, that's why Santana's been acting out of sorts lately.

_Dance dance dance dance  
Got to dance got to dance got to dance got to dance got to dance got to dance  
Dance_

Brittany began to whirl around faster and faster, tumbling to the ground every so often as Mike continued to control and manipulate her. Kurt looked at Brittany in wonder; maybe he'd misjudged the sometimes clueless girl. Maybe Brittany was really very smart, and just didn't show it. Then again, Kurt thought, the girl still believed in Santa Claus.

_And she dances out the bedroom  
And she dances down the hall  
And she dances down the steps  
And out the front door  
_  
Brittany began backing up on her toes, as if walking out the front door. Mike grabbed her hand and pulled her back in, bringing her body close to his, clutching her tightly. She tried to pull away, but he only pulled her back in, making her dance a pas-de-deux with her. She gave in, knowing she had no other choice.

_And she goes up to the clouds  
that's where she find her stage  
And she does the dance that's twice her age_

Brittany pulled away from Mike at last, sending her spinning off in the other direction. She jumped around the length of the room, as if trying to fly away from the pain. Kurt couldn't help but to think of _Black Swan_; Brittany could have easily been an extra in that movie, he thought.

_How did he get here?  
Who let him in up here?  
Who let him in down there?  
I was dancing here  
I was dancing here_

Kurt subconsciously crossed his legs as Brittany sang "who let him in down there?". He couldn't help but to do so, even though he didn't have a…you know. There was just something so powerful about that particular lyric that it was having a deeply rooted psychological effect on Kurt.

_Little girl  
Little twisted ballerina  
Little steps  
Little twisted ballerina pirouettes  
Little twisted ballerina pirouettes  
_  
Brittany whirled around a few more times, doing some flashy double and triple pirouettes. She finally crashed to the floor after singing the last line as Mike hovered over her menacingly. The club burst into applause, and the two took their bows.

"That may just have been the best dance performance in this club so far," Mr. Schuester said. The rest of the club nodded in agreement. "Well, I'll see you all tomorrow." They got up to leave. Artie began fawning over Brittany, and Tina over Mike. Santana couldn't bear to watch it; she ran to her car immediately.

Kurt went straight outside to the familiar dumpster. He dug around in his bag, searching for what he wanted: a picture of himself. He scurried to find a match, procuring one from his jacket pocket. He quickly struck it against his shoe, something he'd seen in old movies, and set fire to the picture. He held it and watched himself burn, watched his face turn to ashes. When only a little remained, he put it to the ground, dousing the fire. He fixed himself up, and went on his way home.

Finn Hudson happened to be parked next to the dumpster, and arrived just moments after Kurt had left. He smelled something burning, and looked around to see what it was. He noticed a smoldering, smoking thing on the ground, and stooped to pick it up. It was a picture, he saw. He squinted in the bright sunlight, trying to see what it was of. All he could make out was a pair of eyes staring back at him. Finn recognized those eyes. He ran back into the school, hoping to catch up with Mr. Schue before he left.

"Finn, what's up?" Mr. Schue asked, surprised to see the tall teenage boy standing in his office door, out of breath.

"I was out by the dumpster, going to my car, and I found this on the ground," Finn panted, handing Mr. Schuester the charred remains of the photo.

"What's this?" Mr. Schue questioned, taking the object. "Looks like a picture…but all you can see are the eyes?"  
"Do you recognize the eyes?" Finn pressed.

"I think so…those look familiar…where have I seen them before?"

"Kurt," Finn said. "They're Kurt's eyes. I should know, I live with him. This is a picture of Kurt, Mr. Schue, and someone's burned it."

"But who would burn a picture of Kurt?" Mr. Schue shook his head confusedly.

"Karofksy," Finn growled.

"Ah, Finn, let's not jump to conclusions here," Mr. Schuester said slowly. "Look, I'll just keep this with me for now, and we can talk to him tomorrow."

"Fine," Finn muttered. "But if he did this, I'll kill him." He stalked out of the office and back to his car, where he drove home, mind clouded up with possibilities of who could possibly want to burn a picture of his stepbrother, and why.

When he got home, he went straight upstairs and knocked on Kurt's door. Hearing no immediate answer, he opened the door and walked on in. He found the lights off, and Kurt sitting in the middle of the floor, cross-legged, surrounded by a circle of lit candles. He was chanting something in a language Finn didn't recognize.

"Kurt?" He carefully asked the brunette soprano, in case Kurt was practicing some sort of witchcraft (because, hey, you never know, Finn thought).

"Yeeeeeesssss?" Kurt intoned in a deep voice.

"…what are you doing?"

"Meditating," he said in that same deep, slow voice.

"Surrounded by candles?"

"I happen to like candles. And they help with the atmosphere."

"…right," Finn said, still not sure what exactly he was seeing.

"Now do you mind leaving?" Kurt asked politely. "I'd like to transcend back into my meditative state until dinnertime."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Finn said, quickly backing out the door and shutting it, still convinced that Kurt was a closet Wiccan.

As soon as Kurt was sure Finn was gone, he waved his hands over the flames, feeling their heat. "Hello, beautiful," he said to one of them. "Hello, love," to another. He went around the circle that encompassed him, touching each one in turn, caressing them as if they were all his lovers.

Because, after all, they were. The flames were Kurt's lover.


	8. Face Down

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Face Down".**

**Note: Chapter 8 already? Woot, woot! Your reviews are just SO positive and SO great. Thanks, readers! I have plenty more of this one for you! [[Side note: Although Kurt went to Dalton, and he did meet Blaine, they never became more than friends. End of story. Sorry.]]**

"I think it's high time we had a group number up in here," Mr. Schuester said.

"You read my mind," Puck said. "The boys and I—well, me, Finn, Artie, and Sam—have something for you guys. A real treat."

"Great," Mr. Schue said enthusiastically. "Let's hear it."

Finn took his place at the drums. Puck took the bass guitar, and Artie the electric. Sam, not knowing how to play the keyboard, didn't grab an instrument, much to the ladies' disappointment.

"This one goes out to all the ladies who are, you know, abused," Puck said in a somewhat heartfelt dedication. "One, two, three…"

_Hey, girl, you know you drive me crazy  
One look puts the rhythm in my hand.  
Still, I'll never understand why you hang around  
I see what's going down._

Kurt shivered. He didn't like the way the boys were looking at him, especially Puck, as he sang "I see what's going down". He hoped that no one had found that picture he'd burned yesterday, the sole evidence of his mania. He didn't know what in the world he would do if anyone—especially an adult—found it. But wait, he told himself, there's no way they could tell who that picture was of. It was so far ruined, so utterly charred and destroyed, just like myself. It's been burned to ashes, has gone up in flames. Like me.  
_  
Cover up with makeup in the mirror  
Tell yourself, "it's never gonna happen again"  
You cry alone, and then he swears he loves you._

Kurt sighed. At least this one wasn't a child abuse song, like the previous three had been. At least this one was different. He could still relate to it, though. He had covered himself up with makeup after the man who belonged to That Voice hit him and shoved him around. He'd cried alone in his room, late at night, when he was sure no one could hear him. Because if they could hear him, they'd care. And he didn't want them to care. Sam took over the vocals for the chorus at that moment.  
_  
Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down  
__A new life she has found._

Kurt cocked his head curiously. Hmmm, he thought, this song was interesting. It was almost as if the singer were defending the girl, and trashing the abuser. It was almost as if someone actually cared, and that the bad guy, for once, would not win, as he had in the child abuse songs. Childhood was about fairytales, Kurt had decided. And in fairytales, the good guy always won. But life was not all about fairytales, something people generally learned when they were much older. Kurt had learned this at an early age.  
_  
A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect  
Every action in this world will bear a consequence  
If you wade around forever, you will surely drown  
I see what's going down._

Oh, Finn, stop looking at me at that line, Kurt thought to himself. You most certainly do not see what's "going down". I really was meditating yesterday…well, until you left, that is. Finn, Kurt thought, you'll never understand. You'll never understand what the flames can do to a person, what a great loss can do to a boy. Then again, Finn never really knew his father. At least, Kurt couldn't help to think, I got to spend eight years with my mom.  
_  
I see the way you go and say you're right again,  
Say you're right again  
Heed my lecture._

Kurt looked over at Mr. Schue, who was smiling to himself. Why must you always be so damn optimistic? Kurt sometimes hated the choir teacher for his constant happy-go-lucky attitude. Don't you ever hurt? Kurt shook his head, hating that he was hating on the one adult in the school who might actually give a damn about him. What if he really needed Mr. Schuester someday?  
_  
Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down  
__A new life she has found._

Will this world ever end? Kurt couldn't help but to think that, with his luck, if the world ever were to end, he and That Person would be the last two to remain on Earth. And if that ever happened, That Person would never, ever leave Kurt alone. He'd always be there, tormenting him, haunting him, following his every move, counting his every breath and wishing that Kurt was his. But Kurt was never his, never wanted to be his.  
_  
Face down in the dirt, she said,  
"This doesn't hurt", she said,  
"I finally had enough."_

Have I had enough? Yes, Kurt said, I have. But what more can I do about this? He wasn't face down in the dirt, necessarily, when That Person was attacking him. But he had said, many times, that it didn't hurt; mostly, to comfort himself, to ensure that he did not cry. For he knew, if he cried, it would only grow worse. So yes, Kurt had had enough, but what could he do about the attacks? He never knew when or where they'd come.

_Face down in the dirt, she said,  
_"_This doesn't hurt,' she said,  
_"_I finally had enough"__  
One day she will tell you that she has had enough  
It's coming round again._

Good God, Kurt thought, what was it about these abuse songs and repeating lyrics? Was it to drive the message home into your mind, into your subconscious? Was it to bring up the memories, the cold and hard memories? Was it to make sure you never, ever forgot exactly what had happened to you? Was it merely to torment you, to keep you up at night with the nightmares and the memories, the terrifying memories?  
_  
Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down  
__A new life she has found._

Kurt's breathing quickened, and he looked for a way out. He knew he couldn't pull off that stunt that he had the other day, as Mr. Schuester was sure not to accept yet another lie. He knew he couldn't let the memories succumb to him again, to make him cry out in front of those he cared about. He looked left and right; surely, there was a way out of this!  
_  
Do you feel like a man when you push her around?  
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  
Well I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's going to end  
As your lies crumble down,  
__A new life she has found._

Alas, there was no way out for Kurt Hummel. He was always going to be trapped. He was always gonna be trapped in this endless game with That Person. He was always gonna be trapped in the love/hate relationship with the flames. He closed his eyes. Oh, the flames, the things he loved for what they did to him, and hated them at the same time, also for the things they made him do, the lies they made him tell, the people they made him hurt.  
_  
Face down in the dirt, she said,  
"This doesn't hurt", she said,  
"I finally had enough."_

"I've finally had enough," Kurt whispered.

"What's that?" Mercedes asked, absent-mindedly.

"Just talking to myself," Kurt muttered. He applauded polietely with the rest of the group. Finally, they were dismissed, and Kurt headed out to his car. His phone vibrated with a text; he opened it to see.

**Blaine: Hey, wanna meet at the coffee house?**

**Kurt: Sure, be there in a few.**

He sighed and flipped his phone shut. Blaine Anderson, his friend at Dalton Academy. Blaine had sort of taken Kurt under his wing and showed him the ropes at Dalton. Kurt had enjoyed singing with him and the rest of the Warblers, and he had been sad to leave him as he transferred back to McKinley. He hadn't seen Blaine in a few weeks, so this text was a welcome surprise. He got in his car and drove off to their favorite haunt.

"Hey," Blaine said warmly as Kurt walked in the doors.

"Hi," Kurt said back, quietly.

"How have you been?" Blaine asked. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm good," Kurt lied with a smile.

"How's McKinley? And New Directions?"

"They're good. We're uh, we're actually doing a domestic violence awareness project right now."

"Oh, really? Tough subject," Blaine commented.

"Yeah," Kurt said. "People have been getting kind of emotional. But I guess I'm to blame, 'cause it was my idea to do this."

Blaine looked at him in surprise. "You suggested a domestic violence awareness project?"

Kurt shrugged. "Yeah."

"Interesting," Blaine said. "Very interesting. You okay, Kurt? You're awfully quiet. For you, I mean."

"Yeah, just a little tired," Kurt lied once again. How many lies would he tell?

Hours later, Kurt was alone again, in the darkness and comfort of his bedroom. He lit a match, a familiar routine by now, and rolled up the bottom of his shirt, staring at his stomach. "God, I'm fat," he mumbled. He closed his eyes tightly, took a breath, and put the match to his stomach without a second thought, gasping at the sudden rush of pain. He'd never burned anything but his arms and hands before, so this was an entirely new sensation for him. He traced a senseless and random design on his pale, soft skin, wincing in pain at first, but then gradually growing to like it. "Fat, fat, fat," he moaned. "So fucking fat." When he was satisfied, he snuffed the flames out, admiring the new scars in the mirror. "Perfect," he said at last.

_The lies the flames made him tell were the worst._


	9. The Dark I Know Well

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Spring Awakening.**

**Note: So! I'm already on the ninth chapter of this thing! I don't think I've ever been this into a story. This is the chapter I've been looking forward to writing the most. I'm combining two of my most favorite things, Glee and Spring Awakening. I mean, granted, they've already been sort-of combined with the whole Lea Michele, Jon Groff, and Jenna Ushkowitz thing, but imagine if the Glee kids sang Spring Awakening songs. Amazing. Plus, this song fits perfectly into the story. Let's get to it, then! (Also, please continue to review. You know, press the nice little "review this chapter" thing on the bottom of your screen.)**

"Mr. Karofsky, may I talk to you for a minute?" Will Schuester asked the tall, broad football player. He huffed, but obliged; he'd already been expelled once before, and readmitted, and he didn't want to risk the same thing happening again.

"What?"

Mr. Schue took out the burnt picture that Finn had shown him the other day. "Do you know anything about this?" He showed Karofsky the photo.

Karofsky looked at it. "What's this supposed to be?"

"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me," Mr. Schuester said, trying to play it cool.

"I dunno, it looks like some eyes and that's it," Karofsky shook his head, not understanding why he was being asked about this.

"Did you burn this?" Mr. Schue got to the point.

"Why the hell would I burn a random picture?" Karofsky blurted out. "I don't even know who this is a picture of!"

"Are you sure?" Mr. Schuester asked, looking Karofsky in the eyes.

"Yeah," Karofsky said. "I'm sure I've never seen that before. Besides, I've been out sick with a cold the past few days. But I'm sure you knew that, Schuester."

Mr. Schue sighed. It was true; the boy had been out of school for a few days.

"All right," he said. "You may go. Thanks." He watched the tall teenager lurk down the hall, wondering how Kurt had ever stood being terrorized by him. He went on down to the choir room to find the group sitting around and talking as usual, waiting for him to arrive. "Let's begin," he said.

Santana raised her hand. "If I may, Mr. Schue, I have something I'd like to sing."

"That's great, Santana. Let's hear it."

She zipped her jacket up all the way, adding an air of vulnerability to her aura.

"I know you guys probably don't want to hear another child abuse song," she began. "But this one really stood out to me. And, um, I think you'll enjoy it."

_There is a part I can__'__t tell  
About the dark I know well_

Kurt's ears perked up. He recognized this guitar riff, and these two opening lyrics. It was "The Dark I Know Well," from the musical _Spring Awakening_. It was one of his favorite shows, for many reasons. He loved not only the music, but the ultimate tragic story of first love and loss. This song, though…this song, he could relate to. Well, sort of. The dark he knew well. Oh, he knew it well.  
_  
You say, __"__Time for bed now, child"  
Mom just smiles that smile  
Just like she never saw me  
Just like she never saw me_

Kurt shivered. What haunting lyrics, like many of the lyrics in that song and in that musical. Just like she never saw me, Kurt thought. What if his mother, his real mother, were still alive? Would she have seen him, seen it happen? Would she have tried to stop it? He loved Carole, his stepmother, but she wasn't his mother, and she would never be his mother. It seemed that, in their house, she loved Burt and Finn before she loved Kurt. And that's the way it would always be, wouldn't it?  
_  
So I leave, wanting just to hide  
Knowing deep inside  
You are coming to me  
You are coming to me_

Kurt's eyes widened. Oh, how he could relate to _this_ verse! He always knew that That Person was coming to him, that he always would be coming to him, coming after him. He wanted to hide, just to hide, hide away from the rest of the world, but mostly from That Person. He knew it deep inside, always, that he'd be chased, cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, predator and prey.  
_  
You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight  
And then you hold me and you whisper,  
__"__Child, the Lord won__'__t mind.  
It__'__s just you and me.  
Child, you__'__re a beauty."_

Kurt looked away, unable to face Santana as she poured her soul out into this song. He remembered seeing the show onstage, watching this scene, where Martha Bessel had just confessed to her friends that she was regularly abused by her father, and that her mother did absolutely nothing to stop it. The scene was just so heartbreaking and beautiful, and one that had taken Kurt by surprise. He'd heard the song before, but he hadn't imagined how it would look in the musical itself, that the emotions would be so raw and lovely.  
_  
__"__God, it__'__s good, the lovin__'__, ain__'__t it good tonight?  
You ain__'__t seen nothing yet, gonna teach you right.  
It__'__s just you and me.  
Child you__'__re a beauty.__"  
__  
_"Gonna teach you right". Those were words that Kurt had heard before. He'd heard them in That Voice, from That Person. "You ain't seen nothing yet, gonna teach you right". Kurt's eyes filled with tears as he heard Santana's beautiful voice sing these words, these words that haunted his dreams, that filled his thoughts when he least wanted them to. In her voice, they sounded so pure and right. In That Voice, they were filled with malice and venom, of death…of death…Kurt stood up, knowing what he had to do. He began singing the next verse, on cue, taking Santana by surprise.  
_  
I don__'__t scream, though I know it__'__s wrong  
I just play along  
I lie there and breathe  
Lie there and breathe_

Kurt took on the persona of Ilse, the runaway bohemian girl, also abused by her father. It was something that bonded her and Martha together, something that they could both connect to and share the pain together. Every word of this verse, Kurt felt in his body, every once of his soul. He didn't scream, just played along. He just lay there and breathed, every goddamn time. And of course, he knew it was wrong. It was all wrong, always would be wrong, but he could not do a thing about it. He began to walk over to Santana, locking eyes with her the entire time.  
_  
I wanna be strong  
I want the world to find out  
That you__'__re dreamin__'__ on me  
Me and my __"__beauty__"__  
Me and my __"__beauty__"  
__  
_That Person most certainly was dreaming on Kurt, was always dreaming on Kurt. Kurt wanted so much for the world to know, but knew that if he did, That Person would kill him. That was always the threat; "you tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you." Kurt so wanted to be strong, but he just couldn't. It was hard to be strong in a world that was always against you, he thought. He put his arm around Santana's waist, and she put hers around his waist. They clutched onto each other for dear life, mirroring the scene from the musical, as if they were actually performing it. They both started to sing the chorus.  
_  
You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight  
And then you hold me and you whisper,  
__"__Child, the Lord won__'__t mind.  
It__'__s just you and me.  
Child, you__'__re a beauty."_

Kurt felt the hot tears spring to his eyes, and one quick glance at Santana told him that she was also on the verge of tears. They held on to each other for support, especially as Kurt's knees began to quiver. The grasped each other's hands with their free hand, interlacing their fingers, an act of rare unity between the duo.

"_God, it__'__s good, the lovin__',__ ain__'__t it good tonight?  
You ain__'__t seen nothing yet, gonna teach you right.  
It__'__s just you and me  
Child you__'__re a beauty.__"  
__  
_Mr. Schuester looked curiously at the two usually strong young people standing before him, clutching onto each other as if the other was a lifeboat that would take the other to safety. The other day, they wouldn't even sit near each other, let alone look at each other, and yet, here they were, holding hands and singing together. Their voices blended beautifully, he commented. He couldn't help but to wonder, however, why Kurt had gotten up and started singing with Santana. It had obviously not been planned; so what had possessed Kurt to rise from his chair and start singing?  
_  
There is a part I can__'__t tell  
About the dark I know well  
There is a part I can__'__t tell  
About the dark I know well_

Both were crying by now, steady tears flowing down their cheeks. Kurt wondered what the dark Santana knew well was. He certainly knew what the dark he knew well was. But what was it with Santana? He wondered for a minute if she had been abused by someone when she was little, and that's why she seemed to feel a connection with this song. He wondered that if, perhaps, it was something a little deeper than that.  
_  
There is a part I can__'__t tell  
About the dark I know well  
There is a part I can__'__t tell  
About the dark I know well_

They embraced each other full-on now, sobbing openly into each other's arms. The club looked startled, but applauded slowly anyway.

"Kurt? Santana? Are you okay?" Mr. Schuester asked them gently. They rocked back and forth for a minute, then broke away.

"Yeah," they said in unison. "We're okay." They held hands again, and walked back to their seats, picking two that were next to each other this time.

"That was beautiful," Rachel said, leaning over and whispering to Kurt. He blinked back a "thank you" with his blue-grey eyes. She smiled a "you're welcome" in return. After a little while, the rest of the club filed out around them. Kurt and Santana remained.

"See you two tomorrow," Mr. Schuester said, getting up to leave. "Great job today, by the way." He grabbed his coat and exited the room, leaving them alone in the semi-darkness. They looked at each other for a moment, realizing that they'd never let go of each other's hands since they sat down. They let go, and Santana's sleeve rolled up a fraction of an inch, revealing a nice, neat scar across her wrist.

"What's that?" Kurt asked.

She quickly pulled her sleeve down again. "Nothing. Just, you know, Brittany's cat. I was petting it, and it scratched me. No big deal."

Kurt silently rolled up his own sleeve. "I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

Santana gasped at the scars and burn marks that ran up and down the length of Kurt's arm. "Kurt…"

"Tell me about yours first."

She sighed. "You know how I've fooled around with guys and girls before?" He nodded. "Well, it turns out that I'm head over heels in love with Brittany." His eyes widened. "I know, right?" She chuckled, almost sarcastically. "I, Santana Lopez, am gay. Anyway, I couldn't…can't…stand seeing her with Artie, knowing she'd rather be with him than be with me. And yes, she does know. I've flat-out told her that I'm in love with her, and she said she wouldn't break up with him. So I started cutting."

Kurt touched her wrist softly. "Santana…"

"I know, Kurt. But I can't be out like you are. Look, I saw how much Karofsky harassed the crap out of you, and how stupidly homophobic Ohio is. I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Maybe someday, but just not now."

"I understand," he nodded. "It's not for everyone."

"Tell me about yours now."

"It started when my mother died," he began. He spent twenty minutes telling her everything; how he'd started at his mother's funeral, how it had started out slow, but grew worse and worse. He told her about That Person and all that he'd ever done to him.

She gasped. "So D-That Person—really did all that to you?"

He nodded slowly. "Kurt, why don't you report him and get his ass behind bars?"

"He'll kill me," he whispered, feeling the tears come to his eyes once again.

"Shit," she muttered. "Kurt, you've got to tell someone!"

"I can't. Santana, I just can't."

She hung her head. "Okay. And Kurt? You can't tell anyone what I've told you today. They can't know that I've been hurting myself, or that I'm gay. Especially Sam. He thinks I still love him."

Kurt looked her in the eye. "And you can't tell anyone that I burn myself."

They glared at each other for a moment before linking pinkies.

Santana got up and headed towards the door. "And if you ever tell anyone, I'll throw red paint all over that white Chanel Men's suit that you love so much," she said, in full bitch mode once again.

"Read you loud and clear," Kurt said. "And if _you_ ever tell anyone, I'll sneak into your house in the middle of the night and cut off all your hair."

She smirked. "As if you would."

"Oh, I would. Don't underestimate me, Santana."

"I don't," she said. And with that, she walked out of the room.

Kurt smiled softly to himself. Finally, he thought, someone who shares my pain, even if it is not pain over the same thing. Finally, someone else who self-harms, even if it is the person I least expected to harm themselves. Finally, someone who is like me: afraid.

_The flames would consume Santana, too. Just like they'd consumed Kurt._


	10. Independence Day

**Disclaimer: I don't own "Independence Day" or Glee.**

**Note: Okay, I know I already did a Martina McBride song, but this one works so well in Mercedes' voice. This was the hardest one for me to write in terms of what people were thinking during the song. So, I'm sorry if this chapter does not live up to the ones before it. Oh, and review! Button down below!**

"Mercedes, we haven't heard from you so far. Do you have anything to contribute to our project?"

"Well…I do remember my Mama singing this song all the time when I was younger. I think I still remember the words. It's called "Independence Day", by Martina McBride."

"Let's hear it, then," Mr. Schue said, allowing the diva-in-command to have the spotlight.

Mercedes threw her shoulders back and walked with confidence to the front of the room. "Okay, here goes," she said, taking a deep breath. Mercedes, although she'd never admit it, always got a little nervous before performing, especially if it was a solo.

_Well she seemed alright by dawn's early light  
Though she looked a little worried and weak  
She tried to pretend he wasn't drinkin' again  
But daddy left the proof on her cheek_

Quinn winced, remembering when her father had slapped her across the face upon finding out that she was pregnant. She had not seen her father since. She stopped to think for a moment if she missed him. Why shouldn't she miss him? He was her father, after all. Yet, he'd kicked her out of the house, leaving her with nowhere to go. He'd cheated on her mother, forcing her to kick him out of the house. It was all just a vicious cycle, now, wasn't it?  
_  
And I was only eight years old that summer  
And I always seemed to be in the way  
So I took myself down to the fair in town  
On Independence Day_

Kurt settled back in his chair. Sure, the "eight years old" stung a bit, as that was the age when he lost his mother, but at least this song wasn't so bad. It certainly wasn't as emotional for him as the other songs had been. In fact, Kurt was not even feeling an emotion out of this song at all. Nope, Kurt wasn't feeling anything right now. He was determined to get through one school day without freaking out or crying. And so far, he was doing a damn good job at it.  
_  
Well, word gets around in a small, small town  
They said he was a dangerous man  
But mama was proud and she stood her ground  
She knew she was on the losing end_

Kurt felt blessed that his parents had hardly ever fought. They were very much in love while his mother was still alive, and Kurt had seen it every day. He saw the way they looked at each other with the stars in their eyes. He saw how his mother lit up around his father, how the three of them had made such an ideal family, even if he and his father weren't as close then as they were now. Kurt wished that one day, he'd find the same type of love that his parents had held for each other. But he knew that this could never be so. He could never find love like that, for it was rare, and it only came to those who were deserving. Kurt decided that he did not deserve it.  
_  
Some folks whispered, some folks talked  
But everybody looked the other way  
And when time ran out, there was no one about  
On Independence Day_

Everybody always looked the other way with Kurt. They all saw the abuse happen with Da-, but they never did a thing about it. They always turned a blind eye to the gay kid who was getting the crap kicked out of him in the corner. They always whispered and talked about it, but they never actually helped him. And when time ran out, no one was around. No one was around to witness the horrors that Kurt went through.  
_  
Let freedom ring  
Let the white dove sing  
Let the whole world know that today  
Is a day of reckoning_

Kurt tried not to think about what had happened to him. Instead, he focused all of his attention on his best friend, Mercedes, and her incredible singing voice. She was singing her butt off up there, he thought to himself, and he loved it. He only wished that she'd open her eyes sometimes and see the pain that he held, that she would do something to help him, instead of never being around when he needed her most.  
_  
Let the weak be strong  
Let the right be wrong  
Roll the stone away  
Let the guilty pay  
It's Independence Day_

Let the guilty pay, indeed. Kurt wished with every fiber of his being that he could let the guilty pay, else, that someone else would. But he knew he could never tell, as he would surely be killed by That Person. If only there was some way, any way, that he could win, that good could triumph over evil, but this was not a fairytale. Kurt could not win against the monster, the dragon, the villain that lurked in the shadows waiting to snatch him.  
_  
Well she lit up the sky the 4th of July  
By the time that the fireman had come  
They just put out the flames and took down some names  
And sent me to the county home_

Mr. Schuester looked over at Kurt to see how he was doing. When he'd left him yesterday, he'd still been clutching on to Santana for dear life. He was getting worried about the fragile boy that looked like he could break into a thousand pieces at any moment. He could not detect a single emotion on Kurt's face, which sent him into an even deeper worry. He'd have to talk to someone about this. But who?  
_  
Now I ain't saying it's right or it's wrong  
But maybe it's the only way  
Talk about your revolution  
It's Independence Day_

Emma, Mr. Schuester decided. I'll talk to Emma about this. After all, she is a guidance councilor. It's her job to talk about this kind of thing. Besides, it'll give me an excuse to talk to her. Now, I know she's married to Carl. But she won't be for long, not at the rate she's going. No, I expect that Emma Pillsbury will be single before she knows it. And when she is, she'll be crawling right back to me.  
_  
Let freedom ring  
Let the white dove sing  
Let the whole world know that today  
Is a day of reckoning_

Santana exchanged a glance with Kurt. He won't tell, she thought. Somehow, Santana trusted this boy, and Santana never really trusted anyone, except maybe Brittany and Mr. Schuester. But Kurt…Kurt, Santana could trust. She had confided to him in a moment of weakness, and now she had entrusted him with not one, but two of her darkest secrets. God, what is _wrong_ with me? She thought, mentally slapping herself across the face. Suddenly I'm trusting Kurt Hummel? Jesus.  
_  
Let the weak be strong  
Let the right be wrong  
Roll the stone away  
Let the guilty pay  
It's Independence Day  
__Roll the stone away  
__It's Independence Day _

The class whooped and hollered at Mercedes' rendition of the song, which, like all of her solos, had been amazing. Even Rachel applauded enthusiastically, and she was Mercedes' biggest rival in the club! Mercedes bowed and strutted back to her seat, as if to say "and THAT…is how you do it." Mr. Schue gave a few notes to the diva-in-command, and then promptly dismissed the kids, desperate and wanting to get to Emma.

He ran down the halls to her office, knocking on her door and entering casually.

"Oh, hello, Will," she said in her soft voice.

"Uh, hey, Emma. Can…can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I was just about to leave," she replied. "Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"Not really," Will said honestly.

She sighed. "Well, sit down, then." He did. "What is it?"

"I'm worried about a couple of the glee kids," he started. "Specifically, Kurt and Santana."

"Why are you worried about them? They're such strong kids."

"Well, it all started when Kurt asked Artie to sing a song with him the other week. 'Love the Way You Lie', by Eminem and Rhianna."

"Ooh, that's a racy song. Very racy."

"Uh, yes. Anyway, there's a lyric in that song that goes 'but it's alright, because I like the way it hurts'. And Emma…you should've seen the way Kurt's eyes lit up when he sang that. It made me very uncomfortable." She nodded. "And then Kurt suggested that we do a domestic violence awareness project, because it's domestic violence awareness month. Who was I to say no? So the kids began coming up with some great songs. 'Concrete Angel', 'Tell Me Why'…I sang 'Alyssa Lies'…but Kurt…he wasn't taking it well."

"What do you mean?"

"Just the way he reacted to some of the songs. He walked out on the group when Tina was singing 'Concrete Angel', claiming that it reminded him of his mother. He had some sort of panic attack flashback during 'Alyssa Lies', and started screaming 'no, no,' at the top of his lungs, curled up into a ball and everything. He told me he had had a flashback to the night his mother dies, but I don't know, Emma."

"Well, what else has he done that has been…out of sorts for him?"

"Yesterday, Santana began to sing a song that was supposed to be a solo. But halfway through it, he got up and started singing with her. They ended up holding onto each other and crying hysterically. I've never seen them speak to each other, let alone acknowledge each other like that. And the other day, Finn brought this to my attention," he pulled out the burnt photo. "A burnt photo of Kurt, but all that's left are his eyes."

Emma examined the photo. "Oh, my. And Finn doesn't know who did this?"

"No one knows," Mr. Schue admitted.

"You, uh, you mentioned Santana's been acting weird, too. What's up with her?"

"She's been crying a lot lately, too. She's also been alternating between staring at Brittany and not being able to look at her at all. I'm thinking that something is going on there, but I have no idea. She won't tell me anything."

"Okay, so they've both been crying a lot, and there's this…burned photograph. I'm not sure what to say, Will, I'm not an expert, but I'm assuming that Santana has probably been abused in the past, and that it's affecting her again now. She's also probably in love with Brittany, but knows that she's dating…Artie, right? So she's probably conflicted about how to act upon this. As for Kurt, I'm also going to guess that he's been abused in the past. I'm not sure if it's by his father or another family member, though. I could be wrong, and it could be someone else who has caused him pain. But both of them are definitely suffering from some sort of severe emotional trauma."

"Oh, God," Will muttered. "Emma, what can I do to help these kids? They're such great kids, with amazing talent and potential to succeed in the future."

"Um, well, I could always talk to them, if you'd like. Maybe they'll feel more comfortable talking in here, where they know I can't break the confidentiality rules."

"Would you, Emma? I'm getting really worried about them."

"Of course. Send them down to me tomorrow."

"Thanks so much for listening, Emma."

"Anytime, Will. You know how much I love the kids."

He got up and left without really saying goodbye. He never liked saying goodbye to Emma. He wished that she'd never married Carl, and that she was his.

But Emma wouldn't be his.

And Kurt would never be Da—'s.

_The flames would never allow such a thing to happen._


	11. Snow White Queen

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Snow White Queen". **

**Note: This has been, by far, my favorite chapter to write. This song is so dark and twisted, and fits Kurt's situation PERFECTLY right now. Again, thanks ever so much for the reviews! **

"Santana, Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell would like to talk to you. Here's a pass to see her."

"Okay," Santana said, taking the pass, and looking thoroughly confused. She gathered up her books and exited the history classroom. She might as well get over this now. She walked into the guidance office, not knowing what to expect.

"Hello, Santana," Emma said. "Oh, please, take a seat."

Santana sat down slowly. "Why am I here?"

"I, uh, I heard that you've been, um, emotional this week," Emma said.

"Yeah. I'm on the rag."

"Oh," Emma said, not knowing how to respond. "So you're attributing your emotional outbursts to premenstrual syndrome?"

"Yeah," Santana said. "PMS. You're a woman, you know how it goes."

Emma nodded. "I also hear you have a newfound friendship with Kurt?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I thought you hated each other."

Santana shook her head. "Not anymore. It was all a big misunderstanding."

"Ah, I see."

"Mrs.…um, Howell?"

"Pillsbury-Howell," Emma corrected her.

"Sorry. Have you ever…loved someone who was like…tied to someone else? Even though they knew you loved them?"

"Yes," Emma said, thinking for a moment of Will.

"How did you handle it?"

Emma looked at her in surprise. "Well, not in the best way, I'm afraid. I ended up letting him go. I was, um, afraid. Afraid of letting myself go. Afraid of, well, of love."

Santana looked down. "Oh," she whispered. "Well, if that's all you wanted to talk to me about, can I go back to class now?"

Emma smiled a small smile. "Sure," she said. "And if you ever want to talk, you know, girl talk, my door is always open."

Santana nodded. "Got it." She gathered her belongings and started to go.

"Wait, Santana," Emma called after her. Santana turned around. "If you see Kurt on your way, can you please tell him to come see me?"

"Yeah, sure, okay," Santana said quickly, surprised.

"Thanks," Emma said as Santana closed the door.

_What was _that_ all about_? Santana thought.

The tall, pale boy walked by her then. "Hey, Kurt, Mrs. Pillsbury…Howell…Emma wants to see you," she called to him.

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Dunno," Santana said. "She wanted to talk to me, and now I guess she wants to talk to you."

"You didn't tell her, did you?" Kurt whispered fiercely.

"No," Santana whispered back. "I didn't tell her anything. Not even about me. And I suggest you do the same before she gets on both of our cases."

He hooked pinkies with her. "Agreed." He rolled his eyes and continued on to the bathroom, his original destination. After he was done, he sighed and gritted his teeth. Might as well get this over with now, he thought. He went towards Emma's office, taking his sweet time, not wanting to do this.

"Kurt, hi," she said as he entered.

"Santana said you wanted to talk to me?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

"Uh, yes," Emma said, gesturing for him to sit down. He did.

"So I heard you've been a little emotional this week."

Kurt shrugged.

"Anything in particular upsetting you?"

He shrugged again.

"Aren't you guys doing songs related to, um, domestic violence?"

He nodded curtly.

"That must be hard," Emma remarked.

He shrugged a third time.

"Do you wanna talk to me?"

"Not really," he admitted.

"Come on, Kurt, you gotta talk to someone. What about Santana? I hear you're BFFs with her now."

Kurt cringed at the sound of the guidance councilor trying to be cool.

"Um, no," he said. "Well, I mean, we're friends, but we're not 'BFF's." He put air quotes around the slang term. "My _best_ friend is Mercedes."

"Oh, of course," Emma said hurriedly. "But you're friends with Santana?"

"Yes," Kurt said slowly, not sure where this was going.

"But I thought you hated each other." Maybe Kurt would give her more information than Santana had.

"Nope," Kurt said. Well, so much for that, Emma thought.

"So no reason for being extra-emotional this week?"

"Nope."

"You don't wanna tell me anything?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

She sighed. "Well, all right, then. But if you ever need to…" He waved her off.

"I know, I know." He got up and left without another word.

Emma phoned Will on the inter-phone school. "Well?" he answered.

"Neither of them would tell me anything," she said, frustrated. "Santana blamed it on her period, and Kurt wouldn't even say anything."

Mr. Schuester sighed. "Okay. Thanks for trying, Emma."

"Anytime, Will." She hung up. She would just have to keep trying, before either of them got seriously hurt. She knew, she just knew, that something was going on, but she also knew that it would not be easy to get to either of them. She would work on Santana first. She'd seemed more emotionally open today. But how to do this?

Later that day in Glee, Santana and Kurt sat next to each other. Nobody dared to say anything about the newborn friendship; they had been waiting for the day that these two would get along. They also did not want to test either of their emotions, seeing as how off-the-charts the duo had been lately.

"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late," Mr. Schue said, running in. "Any volunteers to go first today?"

Kurt stood up. "Me," he said. Santana looked at him curiously. _What did Miss…oh, screw it, Emma…have to talk to him about_? She wondered. He felt her eyes on her, and turned around, giving her hand a squeeze. "Let me do this," he mouthed. She gave a slight, dazed nod.

Kurt walked a few steps forward to the center of the room. He turned around, his back to the group. He took a breath and began to quietly sing.

_Stoplight, lock the door.  
Don't look back.  
Undress in the dark,  
And hide from you,  
All of you._

Mr. Schuester looked at Kurt inquisitively. Why did he have his back turned to the group? Was this some sort of gimmick that would go along with this song (which Will had never heard before, by the way)? He was even more worried about the soprano boy now that Emma hadn't been able to get through to him. Why wouldn't he talk to anyone? Kurt hadn't even been talking to Mercedes all that much lately. He seemed to be devoting all of his time to either solitude or to Santana. Will didn't know which one was stranger.

_You'll never know the way your words have haunted me.  
I can't believe you'd ask these things of me.  
You don't know me.  
__No one ever…_

Kurt began to have another flashback, but pushed it away for now. Not now, he reprimanded his subconscious. As much as it tried to come, Kurt tried to push it away violently. Yes, the words haunted him. And yes, he couldn't believe that he'd asked those things of him. But right now, this was what Kurt least wanted. He turned around suddenly to deliver the first chorus with fire and abandon.

_You belong to me,  
My snow white queen.  
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over.  
Soon I know you'll see,  
You're just like me.  
Don't scream anymore, my love, 'cause all I want is you._

Kurt descended into a dark flashback, the one he had been repressing for months. But alas, here it was. "All I want is you," Da—moaned, leaning over Kurt, backing him into the locker. "And I want you now." Kurt looked desperately for a way to escape. "There's nowhere to run," the terror whispered. "So let's just get it over." He pressed his mouth to Kurt's, and Kurt whimpered. "Shut up," the Voice moaned. "You know you like it." He jammed his tongue into Kurt's mouth in desperation.  
_  
Wake up in a dream.  
Frozen fear.  
All your hands on me.  
I can't scream  
__I can't scream..._

His hands were on Kurt's shoulders, holding him back against the locker firmly. Kurt struggled for a few moments, then went limp. He knew he couldn't fight Him off, as He was twice the size of Kurt. Kurt couldn't scream. The screams were all stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth, perhaps in the throat region.  
_  
I can't escape the twisted way you think of me.  
I feel you in my dreams and I don't sleep.  
__I don't sleep…_

"I want you and all of you," He said, unbuttoning Kurt's pants quickly, fumbling with the zipper. He moaned at the sight of Kurt's underwear, licking his lips. Kurt trembled, dreading what would become of him. But it was too late, He was already unbuttoning his own pants rapidly.  
_  
You belong to me,  
My snow white queen.  
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over.  
Soon I know you'll see,  
You're just like me.  
Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you_

"Soon, I know you'll see you're just like me," He whispered hotly. He pulled Kurt's underwear down around his ankles, moaning again at the sight of Kurt fully exposed. "Yes, yes," He said. He yanked down his own boxers. Without another word, he pushed Kurt down to the floor so that he landed on his knees. Without another word, he penetrated Kurt with one swift word, moaning and panting as he finally got what he wanted. "Don't scream anymore, my love, 'cause all I want is you."  
_  
I can't save your life,  
Though nothing I bleed for is more tormenting.  
I'm losing my mind and you just stand there and stare as my world divides._

Kurt felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he did not cry out. He could not cry out. He could not make a single sound, for fear of his life. He just lay there and let Him do what He wanted to do, which was to have Kurt, and all of Kurt. He lay there and breathed slowly, in and out. It'll all be over soon, he told himself.  
_  
You belong to me,  
My snow white queen.  
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over.  
Soon I know you'll see  
You're just like me.  
Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you  
__Oh, all I want is you  
__All I want is you_

He finished with another quick thrust and a satisfied groan. "Told you you'd see that I'm just like you," he whispered, pulling out of Kurt. "Just like you, faggy boy." Kurt continued to lie there, not daring to get up. He sensed Him pulling on His clothes again. Before He left, He whispered hotly into Kurt's ear. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you. Got that? I'll _kill_ you." Kurt lay there for twenty minutes, until he was sure it was safe to get up. He slowly pulled his underwear back up and his pants. Damaged, he was so damaged…

As the song ended, Kurt pulled himself out of the flashback, shuddering.

Santana looked at him, eyes wide. She'd known what had happened to Kurt in the locker room. She was the only one who knew, the only one. She had to tell someone, she just had to…Kurt noticed her expression and shook his head 'no'. She slid down in her chair. She couldn't watch him self-destruct like this anymore.

But the only thing that both Kurt and Santana knew how to do was self-destruct.

Self-destruct and watch themselves go up in smoke.

_Just like the smoke left from the flames_.


	12. Mean

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Mean". **

**Note: I know I already did a Taylor Swift song, but this one not only fits with the "theme", but with Kurt's story. I was listening to this in the car on Saturday, and saw a scene-by-scene music video in my head for this one involving Kurt and That Person. Who will be revealed in this chapter. Let's get to it, then! And review!**

Kurt couldn't stop thinking about yesterday, about the flashback that he'd had. He could still hear the chilling words running through his mind. "You belong to me, my snow white queen." If ever there were a song written about Kurt, this was the one. He'd been buying all the songs they'd been singing in Glee on iTunes as soon he was able to, and had made a playlist that he kept on repeat, just running the beautiful, haunting songs through his ears at all possible times. He found himself singing them in the shower and to himself as he sifted through his clothes in search of that perfect outfit. He found the melodies constantly playing in his head, the harmonies doing their twisted dance in his mind. He was beginning to think that something was seriously wrong with him if he was singing a song like "Twisted Ballerina" in the _shower_, but thought nothing of it, playing it off as "it's just catchy".

"Seeing as how assembly is tomorrow," Mr. Schuester said in Glee later that day, "does anyone have a last minute solo or duet they'd like to share before we work on the group number?"

Rachel raised her hand excitedly.

"All right, Rachel," Mr. Schue sighed, hoping she wouldn't freak out on Finn again.

"In my continuing homage to Taylor Swift, I will sing one of her latest songs, 'Mean'." She looked directly at Finn, who shrank back in his chair.

_You, with your words like knives  
And swords and weapons that you use against me  
You have knocked me off my feet again  
Got me feeling like a nothing_

This one is interesting, Kurt thought. Yeah, I can relate to this. That Person's words were like swords and knives and weapons. He did make me feel like a nothing. He's knocked me off my feet more times that I can count. Kurt crossed his legs and straightened his hat in anticipation for the rest of the song, which, he could tell by the up-tempo beat, would be a more positive one than the rest of the weeks' songs.  
_  
You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard  
Calling me out when I'm wounded  
You, picking on the weaker man_

Sing it, Rachel. Or Taylor Swift. Whoever, Kurt thought. Yeah, That Voice was like nails on a chalkboard. And yeah, calling me out when I'm wounded. Always, always, ALWAYS when I'm wounded. And yeah, picking on the weaker man. Just because I'm not an athlete or whatever, just because I'm "the gay kid" doesn't mean I'm the weaker man. Because I'm the strong bitch. I always will be.  
_  
Well you can take me down with just one single blow  
But you don't know what you don't know..._

Kurt nodded approvingly. Take me down with just one single blow, indeed. Kurt had never been that big of a Taylor Swift fan, but he was really enjoying this song. He began to tap his foot a little in time to the music. This is catchy, he thought. And Kurt liked songs that were catchy.

_Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city  
And all you're ever going to be is mean  
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever going to be is mean  
Why you gotta be so mean?_

Kurt perked up. This was indeed a happy song! Finally, he thought, an abuse-related song with a _positive_ message, one where the good guy actually _won_. All He was ever going to be was mean. Why did he have to be so mean? Kurt thought. But at least he could take heart to the living in a big city part. It was Kurt's dream to live in New York, or possibly, Los Angeles. Kurt also took to heart the "I'll be big enough so you can't hit me". A good message, he decided.  
_  
You, with your switching sides  
And your wildfire lies and your humiliation  
You have pointed out my flaws again  
As if I don't already see them_

Humiliation, Kurt thought, something he was an expert on by now. Between the beatings and the Slushiees to the face and the…rape…Kurt Hummel knew humiliation inside and out. The wildfire lies, the ones that Kurt was faking the bullying, that he was this or that, that he liked this guy or that one. The flaws that were pointed out over and over and over again. "Gay". "Porcelain". "Talentless".  
_  
I walk with my head down  
Trying to block you out 'cause I'll never impress you  
I just wanna feel okay again_

Kurt did walk around with his head down fairly often. And yes, this was in part to trying to block Him out. Not necessarily because he'd never impress Him, though. Kurt didn't care about impressing That Person. No, not at all. But yes, he did just want to feel okay again. It had been a long time since Kurt had genuinely felt okay. Months, Kurt thought, perhaps even a year.  
_  
I bet you got pushed around  
Somebody made you cold  
But the cycle ends right now  
Cause you can't lead me down that road  
And you don't know, what you don't know..._

Kurt cocked his head. He'd never thought of it that way. Perhaps He'd been pushed around by a family member. Maybe that's why He was so cold inside his heart, why He took all of His rage out on Kurt, the weakest target in His eyes. But the cycle ends now, Kurt told himself. _Now_. He can't lead me down that road. No. I won't allow him to lead me down that road, to continue the cycle of violence.  
_  
Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city  
And all you're ever going to be is mean  
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever going to be is mean  
Why you gotta be so mean?_

I'll talk to Him after Glee, Kurt decided. I will. No backing out of it this time. Besides, I have that rape whistle now, if He tries to do anything again. I must do this. I have to heal myself. Kurt repeated this mantra to himself, taking extra care to mark down the lyrics of the song in his mind so that he could quote them back at Him if he needed to.

_And I can see you years from now in a bar  
__Talkin' over_ _a_ _football game  
With that same big loud opinion_  
_But nobody's listening_

Damn straight, Kurt thought. Nobody's ever listening, you big old bully. Not even me. I was never listening to you, all along. Nobody ever believed you…well, okay, they did, but not my friends. Yeah, you have a big and loud opinion. But you know what? I really don't care anymore. I'm gonna do me.  
_  
Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things  
Drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing  
But all you are is mean_

Kurt smiled to himself. He could see it happening, actually. And the thought of Da—being washed up in the end was one that tickled Kurt pink. And so what? I can sing, he assured himself. I'm the best damn singer in the club. Well, besides you, Rachel, he quickly thought, seeing her glare his way. Could she read his—oh, wait, no, she was glaring at Finn.  
_  
All you are is mean  
And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life  
And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean_

Kurt started dancing a little in his chair. Yeah! He thought. You're a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life! Oh, and you know what else? You're MEAN! Haha, I said it, DAVE! You're just a mean, pathetic, lying scumbag! A scumfuck douchebag! Hahaha! Take THAT, Dave Karofsky! I'm the winner in this round! Kurt began to smile, really smile, for the first time in days, smile at something other than the flames.  
_  
But someday I'll be living in a big ol' city  
And all you're ever going to be is mean, yeah  
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever going to be is mean  
Why you gotta be so mean?_

Kurt was grooving in his seat by now. Mr. Schuester looked over at him and smiled. This was the happiest he'd seen Kurt in weeks, and he sincerely hoped it was genuine. Maybe this was Kurt's breakthrough, he thought to himself. Maybe this song, this day, will be the day he finally stands up for himself.  
_  
Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city  
And all you're ever going to be is mean, yeah  
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever going to be is mean  
Why you gotta be so mean?_

Kurt stood up and applauded enthusiastically as Rachel finished. She looked startled, but curtsied anyway. After they'd rehearsed their assembly number for the next day a few times, they were dismissed, instructed to get a good nights' sleep.

"Rachel, I think your song really spoke to Kurt today," Mr. Schue said to the diva as she was leaving.

"You think so?"

"That was the happiest I've seen him in weeks," Schue said.

"Hmm," she hummed. "Interesting. Well, I'm glad to have helped him, I guess, even if I didn't intend on doing that."

Meanwhile, Kurt was at his locker. He hummed the song to himself as he twiddled with the lock, swinging the door open and staring at his collection of Vogue covers. He began to cheerfully put his notebooks in his bag.

Then a hand slammed his locker closed.

"Hey, faggy boy," came the voice.

"Karofsky," Kurt nodded, continuing to put his things away.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Karofsky snarled.

"Why should I?" Kurt demanded, giving him a brief ice stare.

"Because I'm your superior," Karofsky said in a dangerous voice.

Kurt scoffed. "As if, Dave."

"WHAT did you say to me?"

"I said, 'as if'," Kurt replied, staring into those cold, dark eyes.

"You'd better take that back."

"No. Because you know what? You're a liar, Karofsky. You're a liar, and you're pathetic, and you're alone in life. And you know what else you are? You're mean."

Kurt didn't even see the punch coming towards his eye. He almost didn't feel it. He staggered backwards for a moment, before righting himself and continuing. "Someday, I'll be big enough so you can't hit me," he said. Another first swung at him, which he narrowly avoided. "I'll be living in a big old city, and all you'll ever be is mean!" he yelled. Another punch, another fist. He managed to avoid them both. "The cycle ends right now, because you can't lead me down that road," Kurt said with one last glare. He gathered up his bag, turned on his heel, and strode quickly down the hall. It was only then that he felt the bruise blossoming around his eye, not caring, but rather, wearing it as a badge of pride. He had finally won, if only for a moment.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" His dad questioned at dinner that night. "You know what? I don't want to know. Probably some sort of fashion trend thing, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded. "They're all the rage."

Burt sighed. "Fine, as long as they're not distracting in school."

Kurt smiled to himself. He was able to cover for now, but what was he going to tell the kids tomorrow in school?

He knew what he'd tell them.

That he'd won.

_And the flames hadn't._


	13. Never Again

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Never Again".**

**Note: Hey, Gleeks! It's Tuesday night, and we're still on our 3-week hiatus. Boo! So, I'll give you the next chapter of this. It took me until a few hours ago to decide on a song for this chapter (I was debating between this and "Call Me When You're Sober"), so this is all off the top of my head right now. Anyway, please review! I'd love to get to 50 soon!**

Kurt stumbled downstairs the next morning, still dazed from his confrontation with Karofsky. He looked in the mirror while in the bathroom and saw the black and purple bruise surrounding his eye. He'd just have to hide it with sunglasses for now. Once he'd had his morning coffee, he'd surely be able to think up a quick lie to tell the Glee kids—and Mr. Schue, for that matter.

"Kurt, sweetie, are you feeling okay?" Carole called from the kitchen. "I made pancakes!"

He sighed and shuffled into the kitchen. "Oh my, Kurt, what happened to your eye?"

Kurt blinked at her for a second. "I tripped and slammed it against my bedroom doorknob."

She rushed over to him and examined it. "That looks painful, honey." She touched it, causing Kurt to wince. Carole clucked her tongue in sympathy. "Try to be more careful from now on, Kurt." He nodded, not wanting to start something. "Here, I'll put some extra blueberries on your pancakes," she said, not noticing his silence. He gave her a wan smile. "We won't tell Finn," she whispered.

"Thanks, Carole," he said gratefully. He was glad to have such a nice stepmother. Even though she wasn't his real mother, he still loved her very much. After slowly eating his breakfast, he slipped on his glasses and headed off to school. The Glee kids were running around prepping the gymnasium for the assembly. Kurt halfheartedly hung some posters up and ran through his vocal warm-ups.

"Kurt, I hope you're not nervous or anything," Mr. Schue said, pulling Kurt aside.

"I'm not. I mean, I realize you awarded me a male solo for once, instead of giving it to Artie or Finn, but I'm not nervous at all. I'm also fully prepared to give this speech before the assembly."

"Good. And Kurt? No sunglasses, please."

Kurt begrudgingly took off the Aviators, exposing his black eye.

"Wow, nice makeup," Mr. Schue said. "Getting into character?"

"Um, yeah," Kurt said, surprised that he was getting away with this. "I saw it in a musical once and it looked, um, cool. Sent a powerful message, you know?"

"I think I'm gonna get the rest of the kids to do it, too," Schue said. "Do you mind?" Kurt shook his head. "Great!" Before Kurt could register what was happening, the other kids were scurrying around, applying fake bruises to their arms and legs and faces. Kurt sighed. You win some, you lose some, he thought. Or sometimes, you win both your family over and your friends.

"Kurt," Santana dragged him to a private corner. "I know you're lying. What's the deal with the eye?"

"I confronted Karofsky yesterday."

Her eyes widened. "Oh my God. And he punched you?"

"Attempted to, several times. This is the only one he managed to leave, though. The others, I avoided. Anyway, I stood up to him."

"And….?"

"It felt good," Kurt said. "Empowering."

She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I'm proud, Kurt." He gave a sad smile of thanks in return.

Rachel ran up to them. "Showtime," she whispered.

Kurt parted the curtains and took his place at the microphone that had been set up for him. "Um, hello," he started. "This month is domestic violence awareness month. How many of you know someone, family or friend, who has been in an abusive relationship of any kind?" Almost all of the hands in the audience went up. Kurt raised his own hand. "How many of you have tried to stop the abuse?" Only a few hands went up this time. "That's the problem. So many people _see _it happening, but they don't do anything to try and _stop_ it. That's why we're here today. We want you to do something about domestic abuse. No one, girl _or_ boy, deserves to be hit, ever." He paused for a moment, staring down some of the kids in the stands. "I know firsthand how bad physical abuse can get. I also know firsthand about sexual and verbal abuse. All of these things…all of these times…nobody did anything to stop it. And now, I carry the scars from it." Backstage, Mr. Schue's brows furrowed. He wished he'd pre-read Kurt's speech now. "So what I'm trying to say," Kurt continued. "Is to not just let it go, because 'someone else will help'. What I'm saying, McKinley High students, is to help them. Because sometimes, it's too late to be helped. Thank you. Please enjoy our performance." He ducked back into the curtain again. Santana squeezed his hand. "Beautiful," she mouthed to him.

The curtains parted to reveal the kids in various poses, all of them sporting a bruise or two. Kurt's was the only real one. He walked in from the side and began to sing.

_He's drunk again, it's time to fight  
She must have done something wrong tonight  
The living room becomes a boxing ring  
It's time to run when you see him  
Clenching his hands  
She's just a woman  
Never again_

The male members, save for Kurt, walked over to their respective sweethearts, pretending to punch them. The girls cowered in fear, slinking down to the floor of the stage, in terror for the man's fists. They pretended to scream, some of them to crawl away, all acting. Some of them showed no emotion, like Lauren. Santana, on the other hand, began to cry, her 'acting' suddenly becoming very real. Kurt continued to sing.  
_  
I hear her scream from down the hall  
Amazing she can even talk at all  
She cries to me, "Go back to bed"  
I'm terrified that she'll wind up  
Dead in his hands, she's just a woman  
Never again_

Santana crawled over to Kurt, acting as if she was begging him to go back to bed. Kurt looked down at her, extending his hand, but she pulled away, not wanting his help. Sam stormed over and dragged her away from Kurt, arm still outstretched towards his friend. The other couples were in various states of destruction, of violence. They all began to join in on the chorus.  
_  
Been there before, but not like this  
Seen it before, but not like this  
Never before have I ever  
Seen it this bad  
She's just a woman  
Never again_

Kurt stomped around the stage, pausing at each couple as he went along. Some of them, he tried to break apart, but they just shoved him off. Some of them, he reached out to for help. The girls all reached back, but the boys pulled them back, not allowing her to seek comfort from Kurt. Their voices all blended in beautiful, painful harmony. Kurt took up the next verse, solo.  
_  
Just tell the nurse, you slipped and fell  
It starts to sting as it starts to swell  
She looks at you, she wants the truth  
It's right out there in the waiting room  
With those hands  
Lookin' just as sweet as he can  
Never again_

He cringed as he sang "tell the nurse you slipped and fell". Wasn't that the same lie he'd told Carole just that morning? He'd had to tell her that lie so many times. He'd had to tell that lie to everyone. They always wanted the truth, but Kurt never gave it to them. Well, he just had, to Santana, but that was one of the only times that he'd told the truth about one of his bruises. He turned around to face the group as they joined in once more.  
_  
Seen it before, but not like this  
Been there before, but not like this  
Never before have I ever  
Seen it this bad  
She's just a woman  
Never again_

Two of the couples left the stage as they began to "die" off. Mike dragged Tina away, her body gone limp in his arms. She was sporting a few bruises on her arm and one on her head. His lips curled into a snarl as he pulled her broken body away from the prying eyes. Finn was carrying Quinn in his arms, her arm dropping, limp, over the side of his arms. She had bruises on her wrists. Kurt shook his head at the sight of them, acting as if he couldn't believe this had happened.  
_  
Father's a name you haven't earned yet  
You're just a child with a temper  
Haven't you heard "Don't hit a lady"?  
Kickin' your ass would be a pleasure_

Puck and Lauren stood up from where they had been on the floor. They began to physically fight, hitting and punching each other. Puck turned Lauren around and began hitting her back, causing her to fall to her knees and into the wings. Artie pushed Brittany to the floor. As she tried to stand up and walk away, he pushed her down again, punching her on the way. They continued this punch-and-run routine until they had exited the stage. Now it was only Kurt, Rachel, Sam, and Quinn left.

_He's drunk again, it's time to fight  
Same old stuff, just on a different night  
She grabs the gun, she's had enough  
Tonight she'll find out how freakin'  
Tough is this man  
Pulls the trigger as fast as she can  
Never again_

Rachel grabbed a water gun and tossed it to Santana, who stood up and pushed Sam down. He stood up quickly and tried to grab the gun from her hands. They struggled over the gun for several moments before she finally managed to get it away from him, blindly pulling the trigger. Sam staggered offstage, as if he'd been shot. Santana dropped the gun, tears pooling in her eyes as Rachel led her offstage.  
_  
Seen it before, but not like this  
Been there before, but not like this  
Never before have I ever  
Seen it this bad  
She's just a woman  
Never again_

Kurt picked up the gun from where it had been dropped and put it carefully in his pocket before walking offstage on that final line. There was silence in the gymnasium. Slowly, the students broke into solemn applause. It built up, coming faster and stronger.

"Go on and take your bows," Mr. Schue prodded the kids.

They ran back onstage, holding hands and bowing. Kurt looked out into the audience. He saw Karofksy give him a death glare and gulped, looking away.

But they'd done it. They'd gotten the message across, all of them.

Especially Kurt.

Everyone had heard him, hadn't they? He'd practically admitted straight-out that he'd had the crap kicked out of him. But he'd kept his promise. He didn't name names, didn't point the finger in anyone's face. He never did tell them that it was Karofsky that abused him, never mentioned him by name.

He never did tell him that he was in an abusive relationship with himself.

No, with the flames.

Or was it with himself?

It was getting hard for Kurt to tell the difference between the two anymore.

"_We love you," the flames whispered to Kurt in his mind._


	14. Jesus, Take the Wheel

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Jesus, Take the Wheel".**

**Note: Plot twist ahead! I really hated to do this one, but Kurt has to go back downhill somehow. I'd noticed a somewhat glaring error in my last chapter, and this is how I chose to resolve it. So here we go. Review, please.**

"Has anyone seen Mercedes?" Mr. Schuester asked after the assembly. They all looked around in confusion; they hadn't really noticed her imminent absence until that moment.

"Wait, I'm getting a text," Kurt said, digging around in his pocket for his cell.

**Mercedes: (7:04 a.m.) Goin' 2 b late; tell Schue. Luv ya, boo! Stay strong!**

"That's weird," Kurt said. "This was sent hours ago. Why am I just getting it now?"

"I wonder why she never showed up," Tina pondered aloud.

Emma came running backstage, breathless. "Will," she said, pulling the curly haired choir teacher aside. They talked in hushed voices. Kurt peered over curiously. He didn't like the pained look on Will's face, and wondered what could be wrong. He had a sinking feeling of what it could be.

Will and Emma hurried back to the kids, who gathered around them in a semi-circle.

"Guys…it appears that Mercedes was in a bad car accident this morning on her way here."

Kurt felt the floor drop out beneath his feet. He was vaguely aware of Rachel and Tina crying, vaguely aware of Santana's arm steadying him as his knees wavered. He ran wordlessly to get his bag and car keys.

"Kurt, where are you going?" Mr. Schue called after him.

"To the hospital," Kurt yelled over his shoulder.

"Hey, man, wait up," Puck yelled back, running after Kurt. "I'll go with you."

Kurt paused and gave Puck a once-over look. "Fine, but I'm driving."

They rushed out to Kurt's car, the rest of the group following and carpooling up in various other cars. Mr. Schue and Emma took Artie. The girls clambered into Quinn's car, and the boys into Finn's.

Kurt's hands shook on the steering wheel. "Hey, man, are you gonna be able to drive?" Puck asked, noticing how chalk-white Kurt's face was.

"Yeah, fine," Kurt murmured.

"This has gotta be hard for you, dude. Mercedes is like, your girl."

"She's not my _girl_, Puckerman. But she and I are close, yes."

The two were quiet for the next several miles. Then Puck spoke up.

"So, um…Kurt…what the hell was that speech about today?"

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked coolly, eyes fixated on the road before him.

"About knowing what an abusive relationship is like."

Kurt sighed. "Oh, that. I've just seen it, you know? And it's not like you've always been nice to me, Puckerman. You threw me in a dumpster _and_ slammed me against a locker."

"Shit, man, I'm sorry about those things! Besides, this is the new and improved Noah Puckerman. No more dumpster tossings."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Kurt said in that same cool, even tone. He turned off the highway towards the hospital. After he'd parked in the visitor's lot, he cut the engine and sat there in silence."

"You gonna be okay?"

"No. But thanks for your concern."

Puck gave him a strange look, but got out of the Navigator, anyway. Kurt sat for another moment before following suit. They met up with the rest of the gang, who was speeding into the parking lot behind them. They all rushed into the hospital, unsure of where to go.

"ICU," Kurt decided, and lead the way. He knew this path so well by now. It was where his mother had been eight years ago, and where his father had been eight months ago, in the same room in which his mother had died.

"Mercedes Jones," he said breathlessly to the nurse at the desk.

"Room 113," she said, pointing the way. They hurried on into the room. Tina began to cry again at the sight of Mercedes lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, deathly still.

Kurt recognized the signs immediately. "Coma," he said. Tina buried her face into Mike's shoulder. He rubbed her back comfortingly.

Kurt strode up to the bedside, stroking Mercedes' arm. "Mercy? We're here. We all are. Even Mr. Schuester and Emma...um, Miss Pillsbury…are here."

Rachel went to the other side of the bed. "Mercedes? It's Rachel. I'm probably, like, the last person you'd want to see here, but I'm here anyway."

"Remember when Kurt's dad…well, my stepdad, now…was in the hospital? And we all sang to him? Well, maybe we should do that now, with Mercedes," Finn suggested.

"I know just what to sing," Kurt said, still grasping her arm.

_She was driving last Friday on her way to Cincinnati  
On a snow white Christmas Eve  
Going home to see her Mama and her Daddy with the baby in the backseat  
Fifty miles to go and she was running low on faith and gasoline_

The club surrounded Mercedes' bed like a halo of light. They all looked down upon their diva-in-command with tears in their eyes. She was always the strongest one out of all of them, and here she was, broken. The last time she'd looked this damaged was…well, Kurt couldn't think of the last time he'd ever seen her like this. The last time he'd seen anyone like this was his father, who had almost died. Don't die, he thought. We need you. Rachel picked up the next part.  
_  
It'd been a long hard year  
She had a lot on her mind and she didn't pay attention  
She was going way too fast  
Before she knew it she was spinning on a thin black sheet of glass_

Tina sniffled, almost unable to look at her best friend. Mercedes was the only girl who ever really understood her in Glee, the only one she could relate to. Sure, she was really good friends with Artie, and she was dating Mike, but they just weren't Mercedes. They didn't have her sense of style or her sense of humor. They weren't always there; Mercedes was always, always there whenever anyone needed her. Quinn picked up where Rachel left off.  
_  
She saw both their lives flash before her eyes  
She didn't even have time to cry  
She was so scared  
She threw her hands up in the air_

Brittany plopped herself into Artie's lap, and he held her comfortingly. Rachel was sitting on the edge of the bed to Mercedes' left, and Kurt was standing to her right, still holding onto her arm. Mr. Schue had relegated himself to the doorway, where he stood with Emma. God, she's too close to me, he thought, as he smelled her sweet, flowery perfume. He distracted himself by looking in on the action in the room. It was almost like a dream, wasn't it? He watched with a heavy heart as the group came together for the chorus.  
_  
Jesus, take the wheel  
Take it from my hands  
Cause I can't do this on my own  
I'm letting go  
So give me one more chance  
To save me from this road I'm on  
Jesus, take the wheel_

Give me one more chance to save me from this road I'm on, Kurt thought. Just one more chance, just one more chance is all I need to get back on track. Everything had been looking up yesterday. All it took was one day, one fucking day, for everything to come crashing back down again. One day, and he went from confronting his worst enemy to practically mourning his best friend. Funny how life works that way, isn't it? Santana took on the second verse.  
_  
It was still getting colder when she made it to the shoulder  
And the car came to a stop  
She cried when she saw that baby in the backseat sleeping like a rock_

Finn kept a close eye on his stepbrother, trying to figure out what he was feeling right now. He couldn't imagine what Kurt could possibly be feeling at that moment. The last time he'd been in the hospital like this, it had been to see his father seemingly dying, his father looking just like Mercedes was right now. Before that, Finn knew, Kurt had seen his mother die, supposedly in the very room his father had almost died. And now, it all came back here, didn't it? It always came back here. Tina picked up where Santana had left off.  
_  
And for the first time in a long time  
She bowed her head to pray  
She said "I'm sorry for the way  
I've been living my life  
I know I've got to change  
So from now on tonight…"_

Was Kurt sorry for the way he'd been living his life? Did he have to change? Did he know it? He answered "no" to all of these questions as they ran through his head one by one. He wasn't sorry. He didn't have to change. And he did not know that he had to change. As long as nobody told him, he didn't have to change, right? He could just keep on living his life, burning on the inside and out. He took a shaky breath and joined in on the chorus.  
_  
Jesus, take the wheel  
Take it from my hands  
Cause I can't do this on my own  
I'm letting go  
So give me one more chance  
To save me from this road I'm on  
Jesus, take the wheel_

I'm letting go, Kurt thought. I'm letting go of all feelings, of everything. From now on, I won't feel anything. I won't feel the flames. I won't feel them punch me, hurt me, kill me. I won't feel happiness, nor sadness, pain or sorrow or anger. I won't feel anything, anything at all. I'll just be the empty void that I am, that I always have been.  
_  
Oh I'm letting go  
So give me one more chance  
Save me from this road I'm on  
__From this road I'm on  
Jesus, take the wheel  
Oh take it, take it from me  
Oh _

Tears streamed down all of their faces. All but Kurt, that is. He wasn't feeling anything, nothing at all. Mr. Schue noticed this, and quickly herded the rest of the kids out of the room, giving Kurt a moment alone with Mercedes.

"Mercy," he said after they all left. "I can't believe it's come to this. You, broken and shattered, and I, still here. I thought it would be the other way around by now." He gasped out the sob he'd been holding in. "Why were you never there for me when I needed you most? Why were you never there when I was getting fucking _raped_ and getting the _shit_ beat out of me by Karofsky? Why were you never _there_, Mercedes?" He choked out another sob. "I _needed _you, Mercedes, and you _betrayed_ me! God, I hate you for it. It wasn't even your _fault_! Nobody helped me! Not you, not Tina, not Artie, not even Finn, my own stepbrother!" He squeezed her hand. "Please wake up, Mercy. I hate saying all this to you and knowing that you probably can't hear a word I'm saying. I love you, babygirl, and I wish you were here with us right now."

He slowly left the room, allowing the other kids to have their own moments with her. He sank into one of the hard pleather chair in the waiting room, head in his hands, not daring to look at anyone else. He left the hospital hours later, in silence.

Later that night, he was lying in bed, listening to his iPod on shuffle. All of his and Mercedes' "songs" came on one right after the other. He shivered at the coincidence. His phone rang, the tone sounding as "Don't Rain On My Parade". Rachel, he knew this to be. He tentatively opened his phone. He heard Rachel's sobbing as soon as he picked up.

"You don't have to tell me, Rachel. I know."

He looked out the window, seeing a shooting star crashing down to Earth.

_The flames had consumed yet another person in Kurt's life. How many more would they get to before they got to Kurt himself?  
_


	15. For Good

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, "If I Never Knew You", or "For Good".**

**Note: Yeah, I did it. I killed off a character. So sue me! Kurt had to go backwards SOMEHOW. You didn't expect this story to be happy, did you? Let's do this thing. Read and review, loyal readers! (And go check out my new oneshot, wherein Kurt and Blaine re-enact a classic movie musical moment.)  
**_  
_Kurt didn't go to school the next day. He spent the whole day under the covers of his bed, snacking occasionally and only emerging to go to the bathroom.

Carole came in to sit with him after a few hours. "Kurt, honey, how are you?"

No response.

"I know this is hard on you Kurt, but you can't stay in bed all day."

He slid under the covers, pulling them up over his head. "Oh, yes, I can."

Carole sighed. "Well, if that's how you want to grieve, that's fine by me." When she didn't get a reply, she gently patted Kurt's stomach and got up to go comfort her other son. Kurt waited until he was sure she had gone. He got out of bed, pulling a book of matches out from his dresser drawer. He traced her name in the air with the match that he had just lit. "M-e-r-c-e-d-e-s".

He steadied his wrist and, with one hand, lowered the match to his tender skin. There he burned her initials. "M.E.J." Mercedes Emily Jones.

Her funeral was a few days later. Kurt walked in feeling numb. He and the other kids had arranged to sing two songs, one being a group number and the other being a duet between himself and Rachel. He saw them all dressed in black, looking somber and bleak.

"Kurt," Rachel wrapped him in a warm hug. She pulled away, tears in her eyes. "You ready for this?" She asked carefully.

"Yes," he replied. "We have to do this, for Mercy. It's what she would've wanted."

When the time came, they assembled at the front of the room full of mourners.

"Um, hello," Kurt said, addressing them. "You, uh, may know us as the New Directions. We're the Glee Club at McKinley High. Mercedes was one of us. And um, she was really, really amazing. Probably the best singer we had, actually. We…we arranged a couple of pieces to sing. For her. So, um, I hope you enjoy them." He nodded at Rachel, who began.

_If I never knew you  
If I never felt this love  
I would have no inkling of  
How precious life can be_

How precious life can be, Kurt thought sadly. Here today, gone tomorrow, right? Is it all that "great circle of life" shit? One day, you can be here, smiling and laughing, and life is carefree. Then the next day, you're in a hospital, dying, because someone was an idiot and ran a red light. Or it was raining, or snowing, and your car spun out of control. You see a flash of light, and then blackness. And then you're dead. Life's funny that way, isn't it? Kurt stepped up to take over the next verse.  
_  
And if I never held you  
I would never have a clue  
How at last I'd find in you  
The missing part of me_

The missing part of me. Was Mercedes really the missing part of Kurt? No, he decided. She was _a_ missing part, but not _the_ missing part. Still, until he'd met her, he'd felt a huge void within him, the place where a best friend should be but wasn't. But now, that void was opening up again, open for someone to fill. Kurt feared that nobody would be able to fill it again. Quinn and Sam joined up for the next verse of the song.  
_  
In this world so full of fear  
Full of rage and lies  
I can see the truth so clear  
In your eyes  
So dry your eyes_

Kurt looked at Santana. He could just feel the words of this verse, just absolutely feel them. This world was full of fear, and rage, and lies. Sometimes, they all were rolled up into one situation, or even into one person. He could see the truth in Santana's eyes, the way she looked at Brittany with lust and longing, with all the love in the world, with tears in her eyes as she realized Brittany would never be hers. Everyone sang the next part.  
_  
And I'm so grateful to you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you_

Lost forever, if they'd never known Mercedes. She had been the life of the party, the soul and vibe of the group. She had delivered some of their best solos, assisted with their best performances, and even sewed some of their best costumes. She had been there since day one, was part of the original five members that had signed up on that fateful day. If they'd never known her…well, they didn't know what they would do, exactly. Tina, heart heavy with grief, summoned up the courage to sing the next verse.

_I thought our love would be so beautiful  
Somehow we made the whole world bright  
I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong  
All they'd leave us were these whispers in the night  
But still my heart is singing  
We were right_

These whispers in the night. How often had Kurt heard those whispers in the night? How often had he stayed awake, listening to them? They were all he heard sometimes, late at night, the whispers of his past, of his failures. Fear and hate were strong, so very strong, he thought. So strong that people were killed and raped and tormented for it. So strong that people died from it. Brittany and Artie dueted on the penultimate verse.

_If I never knew you (There's no moment I regret)  
If I never knew this love (Since the moment that we met)  
I would have no inkling of (If our time has gone too fast)  
How precious life can be (I've lived at last...)_

Oh, there were moments that Kurt regretted, all right. He regretted all of the moments where he hadn't stood up to the monster, where he had lost his own voice, stuck in the shadows of his own fear. He regretted all the long-lost words, to Mercedes, to his mother, to everyone. He regretted everything, simply everything. The only thing he never regretted was falling in love with the flames. They all harmonized on the song's ending.  
_  
And I'm so grateful to you  
I'd have lived my whole life through  
Empty as the sky  
Never knowing why  
Lost forever  
If I never knew you_

Tears in their eyes, they faced the thunderous applause from all of the family and friends that sat before them. They bowed, and all but Kurt and Rachel went back to their seats.

"Kurt and I would like to sing a song together now. Um, I wasn't as close to Mercedes as Kurt was, but…"

"We'd like to sing this one together," Kurt finished for her.

"It's what she would've wanted, to see us singing together again," Rachel added. She nodded to the piano player, who had been seated in the corner of the room. Kurt took a step forward and began to sing in a lovely, plaintive voice.

_I've heard it said  
That people come into our lives for a reason  
Bringing something we must learn  
And we are led  
To those who help us most to grow  
If we let them  
And we help them in return  
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true  
But I know I'm who I am today  
Because I knew you..._

He took a shaky breath. This song was so true, so sad, and so utterly poignant that it broke Kurt's heart. He cried whenever he listened to it on the Wicked soundtrack, and he'd cried when he saw the show live. It was such a heartbreaking song of friendship and love, and here he was, singing it in front of an audience, something he'd always wanted to do. He just never knew he'd be singing it at his best friend's funeral at the age of sixteen. He took another shaky breath before singing his chorus.  
_  
Like a comet pulled from orbit  
As it passes a sun  
Like a stream that meets a boulder  
Halfway through the wood  
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?  
But because I knew you  
I have been changed for good_

He looked back at the casket, draped in black cloth. He wanted to scream and run. This isn't happening, he told himself. I am not at my best friend's funeral. That's not Mercedes in that box. She's not in there. She's just at home with a cold. This is someone else's life, someone else's goodbye song. It's not Mercedes'. It can't be, it just can't be. He looked at Rachel, who was trying to hold back her tears as she picked up where Kurt left off.  
_  
It well may be  
That we will never meet again  
In this lifetime  
So let me say before we part  
So much of me  
Is made of what I learned from you  
You'll be with me  
Like a handprint on my heart  
And now whatever way our stories end  
I know you have re-written mine  
By being my friend_

Whatever way their stories ended, huh? Rachel thought to herself. Here I am, alive and well, and there Mercedes is, cold and dead. But have I learned from her? I guess I have. I've learned that other people deserve the solo sometimes. She had such a beautiful voice, she really did. And here I am, singing with Kurt, another song from Wicked. But this time, we're not trying to out-diva each other. This time, we're doing this for one person only, and that is Mercedes. This isn't for us. It's for her._  
Like a ship blown from its mooring_

By a wind off the sea  
Like a seed dropped by a skybird  
In a distant wood  
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?  
But because I knew you...

Mr. Schue hung his head. He couldn't believe that he'd lost one of his members—one of his original members—permanently. This wasn't a Rachel tantrum, where he knew she'd be back in a few days. This wasn't even like when Kurt had left for a few months when the bullying became too much to take. This was death, and death was a permanent state. His eyes filled with tears as he saw the two lifelong—or, should he say, Glee-long—enemies sing together for their fallen friend  
_  
Because I knew you, _Kurt sang.

_I have been changed for good,_ they both sang together. Rachel put her hand over her heart, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
_  
And just to clear the air  
I ask forgiveness  
For the things I've done you blame me for_

She reached her hand out to Kurt, who looked her in the eye and sang,  
_  
But then, I guess we know  
There's blame to share_

He grabbed her hand as they both sang in beautiful, painful unison.  
_  
And none of it seems to matter anymore_

None of seems to matter anymore, they both thought. None of it at all. Kurt decided to end this seemingly never-ending feud with Rachel after they were done with this. Now that their diva-in-command was gone, was Kurt the new DIC? Rachel looked to him. Guess we're the only divas left now, she thought. I'd better make amends with him. They sang in harmony, Kurt taking on the role of Glinda, and Rachel of Elphaba.  
_  
Like a comet pulled  
From orbit as it  
Passes a sun, like  
A stream that meets  
A boulder, half-way  
Through the wood_

He looked at Rachel and sniffled. She was so strong, he though, stronger than I may have judged her to be. Sure, she can be really annoying, and sometimes I feel like shoving a sock down her throat, but she has such a good voice. And, I suppose, at the end of the day, I really do care about her. And I never thought I'd be saying—or thinking—those words.

_Like a ship blown  
Off its mooring  
By a wind off the  
Sea, like a seed  
Dropped by a  
Bird in the wood_

Kurt's so strong, Rachel thought. So much stronger than me. I don't see how he can be up here singing this with me. He was so close to her, loved her so much. They were practically joined at the hip. I don't see how he's handling this the way he is. Look at him; he's staying so strong and clear-eyed, while I'm crying like a damn fool.  
_  
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?  
I do believe I have been changed for the better_

Kurt took Rachel's other hand in his, looking down at it, then looking up at her face. She locked eyes with him before singing her final solo line.  
_  
And because I knew you..._

Kurt kept his eyes trained on Rachel's. He had to do this, he decided. He had to look someone in the eye for once, instead of always looking away.

_Because I knew you...  
_They turned their heads towards their audience, delivering the last lines in perfect harmony.  
_  
Because I knew you...  
I have been changed for good._

There wasn't a dry eye in the house. The mourners, friends and family all, got to their feet and clapped. Kurt and Rachel continued to hold hands for several more moments before finally breaking apart and hugging. Kurt finally released all the tears he had been holding in, but then thought of Mercedes' last words to him.

_I love you, boo. Stay strong!_

Stay strong. Stay strong. I love you, stay strong. He repeated the mantra in his mind until it felt worn. I love you, stay strong. Stay strong. Strong.

_But how could Kurt stay strong if the flames were licking his heels?_


	16. Come In With The Rain

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Come In With The Rain".**

**Note: Wow, 16****th**** chapter already? Awesome! I have up to and including chapter 21 planned out, so you can expect a lot more from this story. No worries, fans! Review, as usual, please and thanks. **

The next few days in Glee were somber and bleak. The kids did not have the heart to sing, lest of all to prepare for the impending competition. They mostly sat around and talked to each other in hushed tones, not wanting to laugh or to have fun. It wouldn't feel right, having fun, with Mercedes not there, never to come back.

"So, um, does anyone want to sing today?" Mr. Schue asked tentatively, knowing that the answer would be a silent "no," as it had been all week.

"I do," Santana said in a whisper.

Mr. Schue raised his eyebrows. "That's great, Santana. Um, if you want to go to the front of the room?"

She dragged her chair in front of the piano and sat down. She didn't want to stand up for this one. She wanted to be on the same level as everyone else. She wanted to sing this one for Kurt. He had barely said ten words per day since the funeral, and she was getting worried about him. He wouldn't look at anyone, let alone talk to them. He didn't even write notes down. His voice, his spirit, were just…gone.

"This one is for someone…very special," she said, her gaze shifting downwards so as to not look at Kurt.

_I could go back to every laugh  
But I don't wanna go there anymore  
And I know all the steps up to your door  
But I don't wanna go there anymore_

Kurt lifted his head from the depths of his own personal Hell. She must be singing about Brittany, he deduced, putting his head back down. I mean, who else would she be singing about? Who else would she know all the steps to their door? Who else would she not want to go back to every laugh with?  
_  
Talk to the wind, talk to the sky  
Talk to the man with the reasons why  
And let me know what you find_

Talk to the wind, such a pretty lyric, Kurt thought, head still down. I want to talk to the wind right now, but I can't. I can't talk to anyone. I've lost my voice. Not literally. Oh, I could talk if I wanted to, but I don't. I don't want to talk to anyone right now, not anyone but the flames. Or perhaps my mother. God, how I wish Mom were still alive right now. She'd know what to do, what to say.  
_  
I'll leave my window open  
'Cause I'm too tired at night to call your name  
Just know I'm right here hopin'  
That you'll come in with the rain_

Too tired, much too tired, Kurt thought, putting his head between his knees, looking at the tiled floor beneath him. I'm too tired to call her name. I'm too tired to call his name. I'm too tired to go on like this, to go on so depressed and lonely like this. I'm too tired to love someone who does not love me back, or to miss a friend who was gone too soon, a mother who was stolen from me. I'm just plain tired of all of this.

_I could stand up and sing you a song  
But I don't wanna have to go that far  
And I, I've got you down  
I know you by heart  
And you don't even know where I start_

You don't even know where I start. How stunningly accurate, Kurt thought, shuffling his feet a little. You don't even KNOW where I begin, where Kurt Elizabeth Hummel begins. I start here, but I end way over there. I don't even know how it happens, but it does. I start in one place, with one emotion, but I end up on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. I start in happiness and end in utter depression within the blink of an eye.  
_  
Talk to yourself, talk to the tears  
Talk to the man who put you here  
And don't wait for the sky to clear_

I'm _not_ waiting for the sky to clear, Kurt reflected. I'm not waiting for it to clear at all. I'm waiting for it to get darker and darker. I'm waiting for it to get darker still, and to consume me, to swallow me in its vast expanse. I'm waiting to lose myself in that vast sky, to be gulped down by it, to be chewed up and spit out by it. I'm waiting to die in that sky.  
_  
I'll leave my window open  
'Cause I'm too tired at night to call your name  
Oh, just know I'm right here hopin'  
That you'll come in with the rain_

Kurt lifted his head up a little, resting his chin on top of his knees. He stole a sideways glance at Brittany, and all at once, it hit him. This song wasn't about her. This song wasn't about Brittany at all. It was about someone else. But who? Kurt scrunched up his forehead, trying to think. No, he thought. No, this can't be about me. Santana wouldn't dare to sing this to me.  
_  
I've watched you so long  
Screamed your name  
I don't know what else I can say_

Santana looked right at Kurt, noticing his slightly horrified expression. Why was he looking like that? Didn't he want me to do this for him? Okay, so he probably didn't, and I don't blame him. But what else can I do? The only way I know how to express my feelings—however subtly—is through song. This is the only way I can think of to reach out to him right now, to let him know that I'm here for him. Even if he doesn't want me to be, I'm still here for him.  
_  
But I'll leave my window open  
'Cause I'm too tired at night for all these games  
Just know I'm right here hopin'  
That you'll come in with the rain_

Too tired for all these games. Yes. Yes. Kurt couldn't help but to stick to this line. Too tried at night for all these games. All these games with the flames, all these games with lying to my family and friends. Too tired to play these games with fate, with death and with destiny. Since when did I gamble with them?

_I could go back to every laugh  
But I don't wanna go there anymore…_

They applauded quietly, and Santana scooted her chair back to where it had been. She brushed away the tears in her eyes, unable to look at Kurt, who was rocking back and forth in the corner again, clearly upset about something. Was it me? Santana thought. Was it the song? Was it something else? Oh God, was this too much for him? Was this too soon after we lost Mercedes?

"Kurt? Are you okay?" Mr. Schue asked gently, approaching the boy.

He jumped up and ran without saying a word.

"Santana, follow him," Mr. Schue said quickly. Santana didn't hesitate; she grabbed Kurt's bag and hurried off after him. She heard footsteps pounding down the hall around the corner, followed by the sounds of a door slamming. She peered around the bend just in time to see the door to the janitor's closet close. She crept down the hall, trying not to make a sound. She paused outside the door to the closet and listened. Kurt was sobbing. Her eyes filled with tears again as she listened to the heartbreaking noise of Kurt's hysterical crying. She backed away slowly, leaving his bag at the door, tearing off down the hall back to the choir room.

"Is he okay?"

Santana sniffled. "He's in the janitor's closet. Crying. I couldn't…I couldn't go in there. I just couldn't, Mr. Schue. I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It's okay, Santana. Let's give him a few minutes and see if he comes back."

But Kurt didn't come back. He sat in that closet sobbing for half an hour solid. When he finally had cried all of the tears out of him, he silently got up and opened the door. He stepped out, immediately tripping over something on the ground. His knees stinging, he looked to see what it was. It was his bag. But who…? Mr. Schuester, Kurt thought, or perhaps Finn. Maybe even Rachel, or Santana. He'd thought he'd heard footsteps approach and then retreat from the closet, but he wasn't sure if it was footsteps or the sound of his thudding heart. Either way, he didn't care. He simply picked up his bag and left the building without giving a second thought as to what the kids back in that choir room thought.

_He needed the flames, and he needed them now. He needed them now._


	17. Good Enough

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Good Enough".**

**Note: Another one of my favorite chapters to write, not going to lie. This song just reeks of Kurt Hummel. Well, for this story, anyway, or if you wanted to get really technical about it, it could relate to him and Blaine on the show. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this one. Review, oh, and let me know what you think about the Person Who Kurt is In Love With. **

Kurt wandered into the auditorium after Glee one day, feeling quite numb. He stared at the black piano, somehow being drawn into it like a moth to a flame. He looked around to make sure they'd all gone home, and, not seeing anyone around, sat down carefully at the edge of the piano bench. He skimmed his fingers lightly over the keys. He hadn't played much in weeks, in months, in almost a year. The last time he could remember playing the piano was when he'd had to sing a ballad with Finn. He ran a few scales, suddenly loving the way the keys felt under his fingers, loving the beautiful and familiar sound they made. He looked around again, and, upon seeing that he was alone, made himself more comfortable on the piano bench. He took a breath, and then started to play.

_Under your spell again  
I can't say no to you  
Crave my heart, and it's bleeding in your hand  
I can't say no to you_

Under his spell again, under his spell again. Kurt was under his spell again, and he didn't want to get out. Kurt loved him, just loved him, and he couldn't stop. He couldn't say no to this boy even if he was being tortured on the rack. He just couldn't say no to him, even if his heart was bleeding in this boy's hands. This, as disturbing as an image as it may seem, Kurt couldn't think of anything he'd want more in that moment.  
_  
Shouldn't let you torture me so sweetly  
Now I can't let go of this dream  
I can't breathe but I feel..._

He tortured Kurt oh so sweetly. Kurt knew that this boy was straight. His list of hookups with girls was enough to make a nun blush. But Kurt couldn't help but to fall for his charms, for his utter good looks and for his being. He couldn't let go of the dream that one day this boy would be his, only his, never to lie with a woman again. Kurt couldn't breathe, just couldn't breathe when he was around this boy, but yet…  
_  
Good enough  
I feel good enough for you_

Did he really? Did Kurt really feel good enough for him? Sometimes, no, he did not. Actually, most times, Kurt felt so inferior that he could never be good enough for this boy, this beautiful boy. But sometimes, just sometimes, he actually felt good enough for the boy. Kurt felt good enough for him.  
_  
Drink up sweet decadence  
I can't say no to you  
And I've completely lost myself, and I don't mind  
I can't say no to you_

I've completely lost myself, Kurt thought. I've completely, utterly, totally lost myself. And you know what? I don't mind. I don't mind at all. Is that twisted or what? I've lost myself in this boy. I've lost myself in the loss of my best friend. I've lost myself in the loss of my mother. I've lost myself in the flames. And I don't mind. I really don't care that I've let myself get so lost.

_Shouldn't let you conquer me completely  
Now I can't let go of this dream  
Can't believe that I feel..._

I really shouldn't let him conquer me completely. But yet, I am. He's conquering me completely, every bit of me. I can't help but to stare as he walks by. I can't help but to feel my heart flutter, to feel my knees go weak. Yet, I do. Yet, I love him. Yet, I want to be conquered by him. I actually want him to take over me, to fill me up and rip me apart again. I can't let go of this, either. I truly can't.  
_  
Good enough  
I feel good enough  
It's been such a long time coming, but I feel good_

Noah Puckerman strode by the auditorium on his way out of the school. His locker had jammed after Glee, and after ten minutes of tugging, he'd gotten it open. As he walked on by, he heard the stains of soft piano music and somebody singing. He pressed his ear to the closed door to get a better listen. He recognized at once the light soprano voice; it was Kurt. Puck didn't recognize the song, though. He was intrigued by it. He enjoyed the lilting harmonies of the piano mixed with Kurt's beautiful voice.  
_  
And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall  
Pour real life down on me  
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough  
Am I good enough for you to love me too?_

Am I good enough for him to love me, too? No, Kurt thought. Not at all. I'm not good enough for myself, let alone anyone else. As RuPaul says, if I can't love myself, how in the hell am I gonna love somebody else? So then, I'm still waiting for the rain to fall. Waiting for it to fall and pour life down on me. I can't hold onto anything this good. Puck, from the other side of the door, twisted his face in concern. Why was Kurt singing this? Good enough for who to love him? Good enough for _who_?  
_  
So take care what you ask of me  
'cause I can't say no…_

Kurt let his fingers fall off the keys gently and looked up at last, staring into the wings. The door flew to the auditorium opened slowly, and Kurt jumped.

"Puck! Don't scare me like that," Kurt chided.

"Sorry, dude. I was walkin' on by on my way out of here and I heard you playing. You're real good, you know?"

"Why, thank you, Puckerman," Kurt said in pleasant surprise.

"Um, you have a really good voice," Puck said, putting his hands in his pockets and striding up to the stage.

"Uh, you too," Kurt softly replied, heart hammering as Puck approached him.

"No, really, dude. Your voice is like, amazing."

Kurt blushed. "Thank you," he whispered, looking down. Puck ascended the steps to the stage, walking over to the piano.

"So what was that song, anyway?" He asked.

"Good Enough, by Evanescence," Kurt said, daring to look at Puck.

"It's nice," Puck said, leaning on the piano.

"Yeah," Kurt replied, looking down at his lap.

"How are you holding up, little dude?"

"How are YOU 'holding' up, DUDE?" Kurt answered sarcastically.

"What do you mean?" Puck slid onto the piano bench alongside Kurt.

"You actually DATED Mercedes. So OBVIOUSLY you had some sort of connection to her or something."

Puck felt stung by the sudden memory of his brief fling with Mercedes. "Yeah, I, uh, I guess I did," he said, running a hand over his Mohawk.

"So don't you miss her?"

"Of course I miss her," Puck shot back. "What do you think I am, an emotionless zombie?"

"Well, yes," Kurt said. "I've only seen you cry once, and that's when your _baby_ was born."

Puck looked stung again. He hadn't seen his and Quinn's daughter since the day they'd left the hospital, left her in the care of Shelby Cochran, Rachel's biological mother. "I have emotions, too, you know," he said quietly.

"Oh yeah?" Kurt retorted. "Then why don't you be a man and show them sometimes?"

"Kurt, chill," Puck held a hand up. It was the first time in their conversation that he'd actually addressed Kurt by his actual name, and Kurt looked taken aback by it. He still slapped on his patented ice bitch face and stood up angrily.

"No, Noah, I won't 'chill'," he said, raising his voice a little as he made air quotes. "I won't 'chill' because I'm in love with someone who won't ever love me back and that I have no chance in hell with!"

"God, Kurt, get OVER Finn already! He's your freaking STEPBROTHER !"

"This isn't about FINN," Kurt yelled. "GOD, Puck. I'm fucking in love with YOU, God-fucking-damnit!"

Puck looked shocked. "You're in love with _me_?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"YES," Kurt exploded. "I moved on from Finn to YOU, Noah Puckerman, and you won't give me the fucking TIME OF DAY. You won't even fucking refer to me by my real NAME! It's always 'dude' or 'man' or some SHIT like that!"

"_Me_?" Puck asked again, taken by surprise by all of Kurt's swearing.

"You're so dense, Puck," Kurt said, knocking the vase of flowers off the top of the piano. The vase clattered to the floor, but did not break.

"Kurt, take it easy," Puck begged.

That did it. "No!" He screamed, picking up the vase and chucking it at Puck. It instead hit the floor at Puck's feet, shattering into a thousand pieces, just like Kurt's heart. Kurt stood there shaking, locking eyes with a stunned Puck for a moment before taking off and running like the wind towards the door.

"Kurt, wait!" Puck called after him. But it was too late. Kurt was already gone, so far gone. "Kurt," Puck whispered. He put his head in his hands, silent tears coming to his eyes. He hit the keyboard in rage at himself for the tears, for hurting this fragile boy. He had already destroyed Quinn's life, and he had maybe just destroyed Kurt's. Two people in love with him, and two people hurt forever by him.

Kurt ran and ran, tears streaming down his face. He got to his car and sat inside, shaking. He put his head on the steering wheel, letting the horn blast, letting it drown out the alternating sounds of his crying and his screaming.

_The flames were building up inside him, and Kurt felt good enough for them. _


	18. Nobody's Home

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Nobody's Home".**

**Note: Okay, here's the deal. This was supposed to be tomorrow's chapter, actually. But, after re-reading what I wrote last night, I knew I had to switch this one for the one that I originally had slated to write today. You'll see why tomorrow. Anyway, this probably isn't my best chapter, but I felt the song fit both Santana and Kurt. I have only 4 more chapters, including an epilogue, after this one! Review away!**

Kurt was late to Glee.

"Hey, have you guys seen Kurt?" Mr. Schuester asked the group. They shrugged.

"He's been acting weird lately," Brittany commented, pointing out the obviously.

"His best friend just _died_, Britt," Artie rolled his eyes.

Puck was unusually quiet. "Everything okay, Puck?"

"I can't stop thinking about little du—about Kurt," he corrected himself.

"Why's that?" Mr. Schuester asked in concern.

"Um, well, yesterday, I was walking out of this place, right? And I hear someone playing the piano in the auditorium, so I go listen, you know? And it's Kurt in there, 'cause I can hear him singing. So I wait 'til he's done and I go in there to talk to him 'cause the song was real sad and all." Puck cleared his throat. "And we were talking and then he got all defensive and abr…abr…what do you call it again?"

"Abrasive?" Mr. Schue supplied.

"Yeah. Abrasive. Anyway, so I asked him what the hell was up and he said, um, well he said that he was in love with me."

"Oh, God," Santana muttered.

"In love with you?" Quinn asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah. And then he threw a vase at me. I think he might be bipolar or something."

"He _threw_ a _vase_ at you?" Rachel questioned, not believing this.

"Yeah," Puck said, "and he was swearing and everything."

"That doesn't sound like Kurt," Mr. Schue said, shaking his head.

"Well, it's true," Puck shrugged, sliding back into his chair.

Will sighed. "Let's just…everyone act normal when Kurt gets here. We don't want him to get upset again, especially in the new…emotionally unstable state that he's in."

Kurt strode into the room, climbed the choir steps, and plopped down into his favorite corner seat, away from all of them.

"Um, Mr. Schuester, may I sing something?" Quinn volunteered.

"Sure," he said, surprised. Quinn didn't usually volunteer to sing solo.

She smoothed her skirt out and walked slowly to the front of the room.

_I couldn't tell you why she felt that way  
She felt it everyday  
And I couldn't help her  
I just watched her make the same mistakes again_

Kurt pulled the brim of his oversized sunhat down so that it shielded his eyes. The same mistakes, over and over again. The same mistakes of falling in love with straight guys that he knew would never love him back. The same mistakes of getting so attached to people that he knew would always hurt him in the end. And it was true, nobody could—or perhaps, would—help him. They just watched him make the same stupid mistakes again. What could they do, really? How could they help him when he was so low that he couldn't even help himself?  
_  
What's wrong, what's wrong now?  
Too many, too many problems  
Don't know where she belongs, where she belongs_

Way too many problems, Santana thought. I have too many, too many problems. I'm in love with Brittany. I'm irrevocably in love with Brittany S. Pierce, and I can't do a damn thing about it. Why do I even love her so much? She's as dumb a rock most of the time. And she's made out with everyone in the school—even Kurt! (Even Janitor Clyde, Santana thought disgustedly) But still, I'm in love with her. And I wish I weren't. Is this how Kurt feels, being in love with Puck, who will clearly never love him back?  
_  
She wants to go home, but nobody's home  
It's where she lies, broken inside  
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes  
Broken inside_

Broken inside. Those were two words that described Kurt Elizabeth Hummel perfectly. If you were to look up 'broken' in the dictionary, you'd see my picture, Kurt thought to himself bitterly. I'm broken, purely broken. I'm no longer whole. I'm weakened; I'm destroyed or badly hurt by grief or misfortune. I am a broken man. I'm incomplete. I'm just broken, pure and simple. That's all there is to Kurt Hummel anymore. Just the broken pieces that have been left behind.  
_  
Open your eyes and look outside, find the reasons why  
You've been rejected, and now you can't find what you left behind  
Be strong, be strong now  
Too many, too many problems  
Don't know where she belongs, where she belongs_

Be strong. Be strong. I love you, be strong. The last words that Mercedes had ever said…or rather, typed…were ringing through his ears. It was as if she was hovering over his shoulder, whispering them to him. They were words she'd said to him a thousand times over, and how many of those times had he actually listened to her? Not many, he thought regretfully. Be strong, I love you. I love you, be strong. I love you, I love you…  
_  
She wants to go home, but nobody's home  
It's where she lies, broken inside  
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes  
Broken inside_

Broken, Santana thought, I'm so broken. Broken inside, just as the song says. Broken, just as I'm sure Kurt is broken. I can't help but to think that he is more broken than I, though. He has to be, just has to be. I'm just in love with someone who won't love me back. And what girl doesn't go through that at some point in her life? But Kurt…Kurt has lost his mother, his best friend…he's lost almost everything that matters to him.  
_  
Her feelings she hides  
Her dreams she can't find  
She's losing her mind  
She's fallen behind_

Losing my mind, Kurt thought. I'm losing my mind. No. I've already lost my mind. I lost it a long, long time ago. I don't think it ever came back, really. My feelings…I hide my feelings. I hide them from everyone around me. Hell, I hide my own feelings from myself. Isn't that pathetic? Isn't it pathetic and sad that I have to hide my own feelings from myself? Fallen behind…so far behind…  
_  
She can't find her place  
She's losing her faith  
She's fallen from grace  
She's all over the place_

Fallen from grace, Santana thought, looking over at Kurt. He's fallen from grace, as am I. This isn't a human, it's an angel fallen from Heaven and stuck in his own personal Hell. And I can't even help him and send him back up. He's lost all faith in himself and in others. He can't find his place here on Earth. What is he doing here? He belongs in a much better place than his hellhole down here on Earth.  
_  
She wants to go home, but nobody's home  
It's where she lies, broken inside  
With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes  
Broken inside_

Broken inside, Mr. Schuester thought, looking over at Kurt and Santana. They're both so broken inside, and they have no place to go. If only there was something I could do to help them. What else can I do as both a friend and educator? I've already tried to get them counseling, but that did not work out. I've tried to talk to them. But nothing works. They'll only talk to each other; can only seem to find comfort in each other's eyes. I guess if that's what works, that's what will be.  
_  
She's lost inside, lost inside  
She's lost inside, lost inside_

Kurt began screaming, an eerie, shrill shriek emitting from his raw throat. Those who heard him likened him to a banshee at that moment. The glee kids all backed away in terror. All but Santana. She dropped down by his side and threw her arms around him, whispering to him in hushed tones. Mr. Schuester wasn't sure what she was saying, as it was all in French, and he was a Spanish teacher, after all.

"_Je suis ici, Kurt. Cri. __Cri tout ce que vous voulez. __Tout dire, bébé."_

The French seemed to calm Kurt down a little bit. He screamed for a few moments more before stopping abruptly, rocking back and forth in Santana's arms. She glared at the rest of the group, and they scurried out of the room. Rachel dragged Mr. Schuester with them, who looked as if he wanted to stay.

"_Êtes-vous cassé, trop, Kurt?"_

"_Oui."_

"_Moi aussi."_

Santana rocked him back and forth gently, laying soft pecks on the top of his head from time to time. It was almost as if she were his mother, comforting him after a nightmare. It was as if she cared.

And, as much as Kurt wanted to deny it, Santana did care about him. He was the only person she could bring herself to care about right now. She couldn't bring herself to care about Brittany, or about Rachel, or about anyone else in that damn school. The only person who mattered, the one person she would fix even if it killed her, was Kurt.

_Even if it killed her._

Even though the flames wouldn't kill her, something else ultimately would

_But what?_

We'll just have to wait and see, now, won't we?

For the time being, though, she'll just sit by and love. She'll sit by and love Kurt, to protect him and comfort him in these dark, dark moments of screaming and black, blind fear.

For now, Santana is all that Kurt has.

_But he won't realize it until it is too late._


	19. Missing

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Missing".**

**Note: Yet another Evanescence song, I know. But this one, again, is so perfect for Kurt. So, so excited to write this chapter. You don't even know. I'd love, love, love to hit 100 reviews by the end of this story. Can you make that happen? Pretty please with Chris Colfer on top? (Whoa, sounds kinky, haha! Or, in the words of Santana Lopez… "wanky.") **

**Note2: Only a few more chapters left! Two more, actually, plus an epilogue. Eek! **

Kurt almost couldn't stand it anymore. It was building up inside of him like a volcano. He had to do something, anything, to get rid of the pain. And Kurt only knew two ways to get rid of the pain: the flames…and singing. Both were risky at the moment. There was hardly a bare inch of flesh on his arms that had not been burned. He did not dare to burn his legs; at least, not yet. And if he were to sing out the pain, it would only make them worry more. Unless, he thought, they didn't hear me sing. Yes, he decided. I have to sing this one out. I'll sing it all away, and if that does not work, I will turn to the flames. He wandered into the auditorium for the second time that week. But instead of walking onto the stage, Kurt sat in a seat in the middle of the auditorium, as if he were about to watch the show, instead of being the one to put it on.

_Please, please forgive me  
But I won't be home again  
Maybe someday you'll look up  
And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:  
"Isn't something missing?"_

Isn't something missing? Kurt was wondering if someday they'd be saying that about him. He wondered if they'd even notice if he were to vanish from this Earth, to poof away in a cloud of smoke, forever gone. He wondered if they'd look up and ask where he was, to inquire about his sudden absence. He wondered if they'd forgive him for leaving. He wouldn't forgive him if he were them.

_You won't cry for my absence, I know -  
You forgot me long ago  
Am I that unimportant...?  
Am I so insignificant...?  
Isn't something missing?  
Isn't someone missing me?_

Am I that unimportant? Yes, Kurt affirmed. Am I so insignificant? Yes, most definitely. Will they cry for my absence? No. Well, Dad will, and Carole. Maybe even some of the kids in New Directions, like Santana. But Finn? He'd never cry over me, his 'faggy' stepbrother. And Puck…Puck would never cry for me, ever. Mercedes would, but she's gone now. Maybe I'll see her again. Maybe I'll see her again real soon.  
_  
Even though I'm the sacrifice  
You won't try for me, not now  
Though I'd die to know you love me  
I'm all alone  
Isn't someone missing me?_

I'd die to know you love me, Dad, he thought. Sure, you say you love me, but I know what you really think. I'm just your gay son, aren't I? I'm just the faggot you'd never wanted. Finn, he's your real son. He's the son you always dreamed of. Just admit it, Dad, you don't really love me. You wish I'd never been born, don't you? You wish I weren't your son. I'd die to know that you love me, truly love me, and not tell me all of these stupid lies about accepting me for who I am. Because I know they aren't true.  
_  
Please, please forgive me  
But I won't be home again  
I know what you do to yourself  
I breathe deep and cry out  
"Isn't something missing?  
Isn't someone missing me?"_

That's me, that's just all me, Kurt thought. He imagined himself lurking around the corner of his living room, looking in on the picture-perfect family: mother, father, and perfect, football-playing trophy son. Nowhere in that picture is a flamboyant, gay son, Kurt thought. I'm not in that picture. I've been cropped out, lying on the cutting-room floor. I've been left in the negatives. "Isn't something missing?" He called out to this stranger family in his fantasy. "Isn't someone missing me?"

_Even though I'm the sacrifice  
You won't try for me, not now  
Though I'd die to know you love me  
I'm all alone  
Isn't someone missing me?_

Santana dragged Puck around the corner. She knew Kurt would be here. She could just feel it in her heart. "Santana, what are you…?" Puck tried to ask. She shushed him, looking to see if anyone was coming. She cocked her head towards the auditorium door, gesturing for Puck to listen. "Ku-," Puck started to say. Santana hushed him again, advancing towards the door slowly. She found it opened just a hair of a crack. She peered in, looking towards the stage, expecting to find Kurt there. When she didn't, she looked around curiously, finally coming to rest on his shadowy figure in the middle of the seats.

_And if I bleed, I'll bleed  
Knowing you don't care  
And if I sleep just to dream of you  
I'll wake without you there  
Isn't something missing?  
Isn't something..._

Kurt slowly got out of his seat, moving towards the aisle. He stood in the middle of that aisle, looking towards the stage. He walked towards it, one tiny step at a time. If I bleed…if I bleed…I'll bleed…bleed…bleed…or burn. If I sleep just to dream of Puck, I'll just wake up without him there. He'll never be there, never. He doesn't love me. The only person Noah Puckerman loves is himself. Isn't something missing?

Santana nudged Puck, forcing him to watch what Kurt was doing. Puck looked at him with a questioning glance. "What's he…?" Santana shrugged. _Bleed_? Puck thought. _Is Kurt, like, a cutter_? Santana sighed and looked at her fallen angel. Kurt was tormenting himself, and she knew it. Hell, he was tormenting _her_ with this! She wanted to slap him silly and tell him that he was, indeed, loved.  
_  
Even though I'm the sacrifice  
You won't try for me, not now  
Though I'd die to know you love me  
I'm all alone  
Isn't something missing?  
Isn't someone missing me?_

"I'm going in there and telling him what's what," Puck said, rolling up his sleeves and getting ready to charge through those heavy wood doors.

"No," Santana said, holding Puck back by the collar of his shirt. "Not now. He's not ready."

"Sant, he's talking about like, killing himself!" Puck exclaimed desperately.

"You don't know that." She sighed. "Look, I'll text him tonight, okay? Leave it to me. I know Kurt now, and he's not committing suicide on my watch."

Puck punched the wall in frustration. "Goddamn," he swore. The sudden noise made Kurt jump, and he realized he was being watched. He ran as quietly as he could up the aisle and out the emergency door. He hopped into his Navigator and drove until he reached the familiar cemetery. His hands shook as he walked to her plot of land, her six-foot grave.

"Mama," he whispered at last. "Mama, it's me, Kurt." He felt a tear roll down his cherubic cheeks. "Mama, I need you so bad right now." He dropped to his knees, tracing the carved letters on the headstone. "Mama, if only you knew…if only you could see me…if only you knew what your little boy has become." He traced the carefully written letters one by one. "E-l-i-z-a-b-e-t-h H-u-m-m-e-l". He gasped out a sob. "Mama, your little boy needs you. He needs to you hold him on your lap and tell him it's going to be okay, that he'll find the love of his life someday. He needs you to kiss him and tell him that you love him. He needs to be loved." He threw himself on the cold, wet ground in front of the headstone. "Mama, Mama," he sobbed. "Mama…" Kurt lay there sobbing for what seemed like forever. He sat up shakily, wiping the snot and tears from his face with his sleeve. He then took out a match and struck it, touching the yellow and orange flickering flame to his ankle. It felt warm and inviting, like jumping into a heated swimming pool, or stepping into a hot shower on a cold winter's night. He burned a pretty little pattern around his ankle, like an anklet. He didn't know that there was a boy standing a ways behind him, seeing everything he was doing.

Puck couldn't stand it a moment later. After the initial shock wore off of seeing Kurt burn himself one touch of a match at a time, Puck couldn't take it anymore. He strode over to Kurt.

"What the HELL are you doing Kurt?" He blurted out; blowing his cover and making Kurt jump a mile and drop the match. It sizzled on the ground, finally burning out.

"Puck, what the hell are you doing here?" Kurt said, standing up quickly, brushing the grass off his pants.

"I followed you after your little performance in the auditorium." A look of horror crossed Kurt's face. "Oh yeah. I heard that, me and Santana did. She didn't want to do anything, said she'd 'text you tonight', but I couldn't just stand there and watch you self-destruct, Kurt. I had to follow you and make sure you didn't like, kill yourself."

"Kill myself?" Kurt asked coldly. "Is that what you thought I was going to do?"

"Well, yeah," Puck said, shuffling his feet a little.

"Well, you'd be wrong," Kurt said in the same stiff, cold voice. "I have no intention on dying. At least, not right now."

"Not now? Oh, so you'll kill yourself next week?"

"Why do you suddenly care about me NOW, Puckerman?" Kurt asked, voice unintentionally cracking on the last few words.

"Oh, I'm soooo sorry that I CARE about you, Kurt," Puck spat out bitterly.

"Leave me ALONE, Noah!" Kurt screamed. "I HATE you! I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"

"I thought you were soooo in love with me," Puck was suddenly sarcastic.

"Well…well I lied," Kurt stammered in an obvious lie.

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Right."

"Fuck you, Noah Puckerman," Kurt said slowly, flipping Puck off and walking away to his car without a second glance back.

Puck stared after him, astonished that Kurt had just given him the bird. "He's gonna kill himself," Puck muttered, "If he keeps this up any longer."

_Too late, the flames that had been in the match that still lay at Puck's feet whispered. _


	20. Paradise

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Paradise".**

**Note: This chapter is a little different, folks. The song is not sung by the actual characters, but rather, provides a background inner-monologue type-deal for the characters. This is the penultimate chapter! One more to go! Review, please. (And to the reviewer who said I'm their favorite fanfiction author—ohmygosh, thank you! You're so sweet! That's the biggest complement EVER!)**

**Note2: M CONTENT AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

_Once upon a year gone by  
She saw herself give in  
Every time she closed her eyes  
She saw what could have been_

Kurt dusted himself off and walked into the bathroom at McKinley. Everything was fine, he thought. So what if Puck caught me burning myself all alone at my mother's grave? He won't tell anyone. Noah Puckerman might be an idiot—a very cute idiot—but he's not a snitch. I just need to get through the rest of this school year, or at least, through the rest of this month. He quietly locked himself in a stall to do his business.

It was too late, though. His tormenter had seen him go in.

He banged on the door. "Why are you hiding, fairy boy? I thought you liked to look at other boys' cocks."

Kurt closed his eyes, hoping that if he stayed silent, Karofsky would just go away.

"How's your little boyfriend, fairy? Oh, that's right, you don't have one. You're just a dirty slut, a worthless nothing."

Kurt sighed, zipping up his pants and waiting for Karofksy to retreat. He didn't.

"Dave, please go away," Kurt dared to call out.

"Well, since you asked politely…no, I won't," Karofsky sneered through the door.

"Dave, I'm not playing these games anymore. Please just leave me alone." Kurt unlocked the stall door, trying to push past Karofsky so that he could wash his hands. Karofksy wouldn't let him by.

"I love these games. And so do you. Just admit it, Kurt. You love me."

"No, Dave. Your twisted mind has led you to believe so."

Karofsky pushed Kurt back into the stall. "Twisted, am I?" Kurt stopped breathing. He knew That Voice. It was that Dangerous voice, the one that let him know he was about to get the shit kicked out of him once again. Karofsky whipped a rag out of his pocket and shoved it in Kurt's mouth, effectively gagging him. Kurt tried to scream out, but could not find his voice. It was once again lost.

"Now lay back and enjoy this," Karofksy whispered in that soft, dangerous voice of his. He unzipped Kurt's pants, pulling down Kurt's silk boxers. He moaned at his second sighting of Kurt's manhood, and flipped Kurt over so that he was on his knees. Kurt gulped. He knew what was coming, and there was nothing he could do about this. Karofksy wasted no time in getting undressed from the waist down and taking Kurt. Kurt whimpered as the football player entered him, but forced himself not to cry this time. He had forgotten how to fight back. He did not want to fight back, not this time. He was too tired to fight back.

_Well nothing_ _hurts, and nothing bleeds  
When covers tucked in tight  
Funny when the bottom drops  
How she forgets to fight... to fight_

Karofsky finished in a few minute's time, wiping himself off on Kurt's shirt. "Say you love me," he whispered hotly into Kurt's ear. "Show me that you love me." He tugged on Kurt's manhood, trying to get it aroused. He smiled as it sprung to life against Kurt's will. "Yes, that's it. Show Dave that you love him." He turned Kurt over so that he was facing him. Then he bent down and worked his tongue on Kurt, causing Kurt to whimper once again. Kurt never imagined that something that could feel so good could feel so wrong at the same time, could feel so very good and so very bad, could make him feel amazing and make him feel dirty and horrible. No longer in control of his actions, he released himself into Karofsky's mouth. "Yeah, that's it," Karofsky moaned. "Horny little slut, Kurt is." He finally pulled up his pants, leaving Kurt exposed and gagged on the bathroom floor. Kurt, as soon as he knew that his tormentor was gone, took the rag out of his mouth, finally breathing for real. He shakily pulled up his boxers and his trousers, and got up off the floor. He made his way over to the sink, buttocks hurting from where Karofksy had so roughly penetrated him. He washed his hands slowly, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"Fuck them all," he said to his mirror-self.  
_  
And it's one more day in paradise  
One more day in paradise_

Kurt limped on out of the bathroom, walking straight into Puck.

"Kurt," Puck's eyes lit up. "There you are. I've been looking for you. I have to tell you something…"

"Don't," Kurt cut him off. "Don't tell me anything. I've heard enough, Noah."

"But Kurt, I think you need to hear this," Puck said, grabbing Kurt's wrist as he tried to walk off. The sudden move made Kurt gasp, reminding him of Karofsky.

"I don't want to hear it," Kurt whispered in a shaky voice. "I really don't want to."

"Kurt, just give me two minutes. You owe me that much."

Kurt forced himself to look into Puck's eyes. They burned with passion and fire. Fire…fire…Kurt needed some fire right now.

"I really care about you," Puck said. "I really, really do. And Kurt, you really need someone to care about you right now. I'm willing to, um, be a friend to you. Or more if you want. I've always wanted to make out with a guy at least once. And since you have feelings for me and all," Puck ran a hand through his Mohawk, "maybe we could, you know, hang out and make out or something. If you wanted to, of course."

Kurt stared at Puck. "I…Puck, I don't know what to say…"

"Well, 'yes' would be nice."

"I can't," Kurt said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Puck, but I can't. I love you, but I can't. I just can't. Karofsky, he…I just can't, Puck. I…I have to go." And with that, he ran off, not taking another look back.  
_  
As darkness quickly steals the light  
That shined within her eyes  
She slowly swallows all her fear  
And soothes her mind with lies_

As Kurt went to the Navigator, he found Santana waiting for him.

"Kurt, hey, I texted you last night. Why didn't you text me back?"

"Dead battery," he flawlessly lied.

"Oh," she looked surprised. "Well, I was just making sure you were okay, is all."

"Yep, fine," he said, going around to the driver's side of the car.

"Kurt, you're limping. What happened?"

He looked at her, straight into her soulful eyes, and all at once, she knew what had happened. "No," she whispered, eyes pooling with tears. "Kurt, no." He nodded, unable to look at her for a moment longer. She ran over to his side, sliding an arm around him. "I thought he…I thought you…" Kurt stood as still as a stone. "Kurt, how could he?" Kurt slid out from her grasp. He opened the door and got in the car, slamming the door closed behind him. "Kurt," Santana called through the tightly sealed window. He put the keys in ignition, started the engine, and sped off. "Kurt!" Santana screamed after the car that was driving off into the Ohio sunset. She dropped to her knees and began to cry for this, her fallen angel. Without a thought, she went to her own car, bringing out an emergency razor that she kept stored under her mirror. She dragged it across her wrist softly, leaving a thin, pink line. She made one for Kurt, and then another for herself alongside it. Twin cuts, twin pains, twin lives.  
_  
Well, all she wants and all she needs  
Are reasons to survive  
A day in which the sun will take  
Her artificial light... her light_

Puck ran blindly out of the building, searching for somebody, anybody. He scanned the parking lot for Kurt's car, and did not see it. He did, however, spot Santana's car off in the distance, and he ran towards it desperately. He found Santana with a shiny, new razor in her hands, and fresh lines running across her wrists. He banged on the door angrily. "Puck!" she screamed, rolling down the window quickly.

"What the HELL are you doing, Santana?" He demanded of his ex-flame.

"Letting it all out," she said stoically.

"Letting WHAT out? Besides your friggin' BLOOD, that is?"

"My pain," she said. "Mine…and Kurt's," she looked him dead in the eye.

"How you do know about…and what do you mean, YOUR pain?"

"My pain," she repeated. "You wouldn't know about that. Nobody does. Except for Kurt. And you'd know, too, if you just opened your eyes once in a while, Puckerman."

"So what am I supposed to do, just stand here and watch you bleed? And yesterday, was I just supposed to stand there and watch Kurt fuckin' burn himself?"

Santana winced. "Yes. You are supposed to watch this all happen. Because there's nothing you can do. We're just going to do what we do." And with that, she rolled up her window and drove off, leaving Puck standing mercilessly in the dimming parking lot.  
_  
And it's one more day in paradise  
One more day in paradise  
It's one more day in paradise  
One last chance to feel alright... alright_

So there they were, both of them, driving off into that bright Ohio sunset. There was Kurt in his Navigator, and Santana in her Focus. Both in different cars, with different reasons for their pain that day, but with such similar stories that involved a confusing and difficult to understand sexuality. Both of them with one last chance to feel alright. Kurt drove off in aimless circles, both going everywhere and nowhere. He briefly contemplated going to Dalton to visit Blaine, but decided against it. Santana, too, drove aimlessly. She wanted to go to Brittany's house and wrap her up in her arms, to tell her that she loved her, and to once more share sweet lady kisses with her. But she could not, for Brittany had made it clear that she was not about to leave Artie.

"Goddamn," Santana swore, hitting her steering wheel violently. Somewhere, unbeknownst to her, Kurt was doing the same. They drove and drove and drove until they almost couldn't see straight anymore. Kurt wished that he could just drive into the Sun, that it would engulf him in one big ball of fire, that he would die within its flames. He wanted so much to die. What was the point of living if he was constantly kicked around and beaten up? What was the point of living if he was just going to be raped every time he walked into a bathroom or locker room in which his abuser was? Kurt just felt so dirty all the time, so dirty, like a goddamn whore.  
_  
Don't pretend to hold it in, just let it out  
Don't pretend to hold it in, just push it out  
__Don't you try to hold it in, just let it out and  
Don't you try to hold it in, you hold it in_

Santana closed her eyes briefly, trying not to let it all catch up with her. She breathed in and slowly exhaled, trying to let all the negativity leave her as she was taught to do in her Yoga class. Inhale positivity, and exhale negativity. No matter how many times she tried to do these cleansing breaths, she just couldn't get all that negativity out. It was all just in there, just all bottled up deep within her. She closed her eyes again, driving, quite literally, blindly. She felt herself press down a little harder on the gas pedal, driving recklessly. She opened her eyes and saw the bright light in front of her. She screamed, felt the crushing impact, and everything went black. "Kurt," she murmured as she descended into the madness.  
_  
And it's one more day in paradise  
One more day in paradise  
It's one more day in paradise  
One last chance to feel alright... alright_

Kurt drove past the accident without a second thought, shaking his head for a moment at the stupid head-on collision. How many of them had happened on this road? It was so senseless, that so many people would get into accidents at this series of hairpin turns. Such a dangerous area, yet people were lured to it somehow. For a fleeting moment, he thought he recognized that Ford Focus, but then decided against it. There were so many of them in Ohio that this one wouldn't make much more of a difference. The odds that this accident involved someone he knew were one in a million, and so, he thought nothing of it. Sure, it could have been him in that position, but it was not, and for that, he was glad. But he was only glad for a moment. He wanted to die, after all. He wasn't sure when, or how, but he wanted to do it, and soon. He had to, before he got hurt again. He drove on by the accident without a second glance, without seeing the former cheerleader be pulled from the wreckage with smooth, jagged cuts running across her tanned wrists.  
_  
Once upon a year gone by  
She saw herself give in  
Every time she closed her eyes  
She saw what could have…been_


	21. The Final Hit

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Note: No song in this chapter, Gleeks! I searched desperately for one that would work for this, but I couldn't find the perfect one. This is also the FINAL chapter of this story. Look out tomorrow for the epilogue and a preview of the sequel, "Phoenix"! For now, just review this one. **

_It was getting late, and they were all running out of time._

**Rachel: Santana in car wreck, OMG.**

**Tina: Oh, God, no…**

**Mike: Does Brittany know?**

**Rachel: She's in the ER with me now.**

**Puck: Shit. Have you guys seen Kurt? I think he's in trouble.**

**Tina: No, but you'd better go find him.**

**Rachel: I'll hold down the fort until you all get here.**

**Artie: Britt's crying. Get here fast, everyone, please.**

**Kurt: ONE DAY AND EVERYTHING FUCKING COMES DOWN AGAIN. GOD. THANKS, GUYS, IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOU ALL.**

**Tina: ….**

**Artie: Kurt? **

_**Kurt has signed off**_

**Puck: Fuck. On a rescue mission, guys. **

_**Puck has signed off**_

**Rachel: You don't think…?**

Artie: Kurt wouldn't kill himself. 

**Mike: Yeah, he's strong.**

**Tina: I'm not so sure, guys…**

**Mike: Chill, Tina, he'll be fine.**

_**Mike, Tina, and Artie have signed off**_

**Rachel: Godspeed, Kurt.**

_**Rachel has signed off**_

Kurt raced towards the open field. He knew he had to do this, and he knew he had to do this now. This was all just too much for him to handle. Santana was probably dead by now. "Oh, my GOD." The sudden realization that the car wreck he'd passed by earlier was Santana's, that it had been her that was smashed up to pieces, sunk in. He banged the wheel and began to cry. First his mom, then Mercedes, and now Santana? Too many people lost from car crashes, and they were all his fault. If only he hadn't made his mom go to the mall that day…if only he'd given Mercedes a ride to school that rainy morning…if only he hadn't warped Santana into his own madness…they'd all be here right now. They'd all be with him, safe and sound, and Kurt wouldn't be heading towards his own demise.

_There was still time._

"Rachel, thank God," Tina ran into the emergency room, followed closely by Mike. "What happened? Is she okay? Is she…" Rachel raised a hand, silencing her.

"She's alive. She's really banged up, though. Most of her ribs are broken, and so is her leg. And her arm, too. She also has a bad concussion. Other than that, she's fine."

Tina sank into the hard plastic waiting room chair. "How did this happen?"

Artie sighed. "She was speeding, and collided head-on into another car, over by that dangerous spot with all the hairpin turns about five miles out of Lima."

"Speeding?" Mike frowned. "Why was she…?"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. She's asleep right now, but we'll ask her later. Much later. It's probably not a good idea to ask her so soon…after…you know?"

Brittany sat like a rock, not speaking or moving. "Britt?"

She blinked, not looking at them. "She's been like this since we got here," Artie leaned over and whispered to Tina and Mike. He squeezed her hand, but she didn't respond.

**Lauren: Heard about Santana. Is she okay? Not that I care. Much.**

**Rachel: She's alive, no worries. **

**Lauren: Good. I'm with Schue now, and Quinn and Finn. **

**Finn: Yeah, I'm with Lauren and Quinn. And Mr. Schue.**

**Quinn: Finn, you're an idiot.**

**Mr. Schuester: Do you kids need me there?**

Rachel: We're okay, Mr. Schue. We don't know where Kurt is, though…

**Mr. Schuester: ? **

**Artie: Puck went to go look for him.**

**Mr. Schuester: Hope he's okay. Poor Kurt…he's been through so much lately.**

_**Lauren, Finn, Quinn, and Mr. Schuester have signed off**_

**Rachel: I wonder where Kurt could be.**

**Artie: Rachel…I'm right here.**

**Rachel: Oops, sorry.**

_**Rachel and Artie have signed off**_

**Kurt: Isn't something missing?**

**Kurt: Isn't someone missing me?**

Kurt: I guess not.

_**Kurt has signed off**_

**Puck: Kurt, wait! Where are you?**

**Puck: Damnit.**

_**Puck has signed off**_

Kurt finally reached the open field that he'd been searching for. It was exactly as he'd pictured it; a big open space with lots of grass and space to run. Space to run, and space to hide. Space to fall and love, and space to die. And what Kurt wanted to do more than ever right then and there was to die. He parked the car, leaving all of his things behind, save for a book of matches, which he carefully tucked into his pants pocket. "Let them find it all later, and burn it," he said to nobody. "Just burn it all to ash, just like me."

_Or was it too late for Kurt to be saved?_

Puck drove around madly, searching desperately for Kurt. Why am I the only one who is picking up on his suicide threats? He questioned his own mind. Are they all really that clueless? Maybe I'm just smarter than they give me credit for. I'm not about to let my little buddy Kurt die. He's not gonna take his own life, not on my watch. I bet he'll do it by burning. But where do you go when you want to burn yourself to death? What kind of sick, twisted person would even want to do that?

_Kurt would._

"Kurt?" Santana moaned, slowly coming to her senses. "Kurt? Is that you?" She blinked in the glow of the harsh hospital lights. _God, I feel like I've been hit by a truck_. She tried to sit up, but could not, as her ribs were taped up. She fell back down against the pillows, weak and tired. She looked down at her wrists, bandages covering the cuts that she had been so proud of. A cast was on her right arm, and another was on her left leg. Her head hurt like she'd had a massive hangover, and an IV was steadily dripping something into her veins. "Kurt?" She called out again, hoping that he'd come into the room. Instead, she was greeted by Rachel, Tina, Artie, Mike…and Brittany.

"Oh, Santana, you're awake," Rachel whispered. They all entered the room and scattered around her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell," she muttered, hoping they were pumping her with good drugs. "What…what happened?"

"Um," Artie began slowly. "You were driving out by that area with the bad hairpin turns? And you were kinda speeding. And…Santana, you collided head-on with another car."

It was all coming back to her now. "Shit," she swore under her breath. "Guys, where's Kurt? Where is he?"

Tina gulped. "Santana…nobody's seen him for hours. Um, the last person to see him was…you."

Santana tried to sit up suddenly, but could not. "What? Guys, this isn't funny, WHERE IS KURT?"

"We don't know," Mike admitted. "Puck's gone to look for him."

Brittany hung back by the door, unable to speak or move yet again. "Britt?" Santana said softly, noticing the pretty blonde for the first time.

Rachel took the opportunity to send off a quick group text.

**Rachel: She's awake!**

**Quinn: Thank God, oh, thank you, Jesus.**

**Finn: Grilled Cheesus, thank you!**

**Lauren: That's great, Rachel. It really is.**

**Mr. Schuester: Thank God. Tell her she's in our thoughts.**

**Puck: That's great, but I still can't find Kurt. Getting really, really worried.**

**Mr. Schuester: Do you want us to help you, Puck?**

Puck: I can handle this one on my own.

_**Puck has signed off**_

**Quinn: Where do you think he could be? **

**Rachel: FINN YOU'RE HIS STEPBROTHER. WHY IS PUCK LOOKING FOR HIM AND NOT YOU?**

**Finn: …**

**Finn: He's nothing to me anymore.**

**Finn: Just my faggy stepbrother.**

**Rachel: Wow. Just wow.**

**Lauren: Fuck you, Hudson.**

**Mr. Schuester: …**

**Quinn: I'm breaking up with you.**

_**Quinn has signed off**_

**Rachel: I concur.**

_**Rachel has signed off**_

**Mr. Schuester: I'm really disappointed in you, Finn.**

_**Mr. Schuester has signed off**_

**Lauren: I'm giving you the middle finger right now, just so you know.**

_**Lauren has signed off**_

**Finn: Come on guys, I didn't mean it like that!**

**Finn: Guys?**

**Finn: Kurt, please come home…**

_**Finn has signed off**_

Kurt had taken a handful of pictures out of his bag before slamming the door shut. The last thing he'd done was written a goodbye text, sent to those would might actually give a damn if he'd died.

**Kurt: I'm sorry. I had to do it. If only you knew me, if only you really knew me. Santana was the only one who ever really did. And now, she's gone, too. Well, I'm going now, guys. I'm going to see Mercedes again, and Mama. I love you all. And I'm sorry. I have to do this. xoxo Kurt Elizabeth Hummel**

Kurt powered down his phone. He wouldn't need it now. He tossed it in the back of the Navigator, hearing it clunking down somewhere against something metal and hard. If only he'd kept that phone on for a moment longer, for then he would have gotten the text from Rachel that said: **Kurt, Santana's alive! Please come home. We all love and miss you. **

_But it was too late; the phone was off and out of Kurt's hands, quite literally._

"Guys, look at this text I just got from Kurt," Rachel hurriedly pulled the gang over to the corner of the room.

Artie's phone beeped. "I got the same thing," he said, holding up his phone.

"Us, too," Tina and Mike said in unison.

Brittany silently held up her own phone, showing that she, too, had gotten the message.

"A text? From Kurt? Where is he? Is he okay?" Santana called over from the bed, voice growing more desperate with each word.

"He's fine," Artie called back calmly. "He's taking a little time to breathe, but he'll be here before visiting hours are over." The lie slipped off his tongue so easily, it was like butter melting. Rachel shot him a wide eyed look. "I can't," Artie mouthed back. Tina looked over at Santana worriedly.

"Santana, we're going to head to the vending machines. Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks," she replied. "Take your time. I'm obviously not going anywhere."

They scuttled out of the room. "I had to do it?" Tina read nervously.

"He wouldn't," Mike firmly stated. "Kurt's just being overdramatic, as usual."  
Rachel's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not so sure this time, Mike. I think he really is going to do something."

_If only they knew._

Puck pulled over to the side, having felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He scanned the text from Kurt, feeling his heart race as he read each word. "No," he whispered. "No!" He quickly pulled back onto the road, putting the pedal to the metal. He had to save his friend, if it was the last thing he'd ever do. He couldn't save Mercedes, and he didn't save Santana. Santana, who had been bleeding at the wrists the last time he'd seen her. Mercedes, who had been so full of life and joy and vivaciousness. Santana and Mercedes, both of whom he'd had flings with. Two girls who he'd hurt, one of whom was dead—dead!—and the other who was lying in a hospital bed, half-dead anyway. Both had loved him. And so did Kurt, and where was Kurt headed right now? The same place Mercedes and Santana were.

_To the other side._

Kurt stepped out into the field, stepped out into the dusk and the brisk night. He took in a big, deep breath, enjoying the smell of the night air. He walked slowly, suddenly aware of all of his senses, feeling as if everything was a blur around him. These were to be his last minutes of life, and he was going to remember every moment of it. He reached the middle of the field, and held those pictures tightly in his hands. He took the first one and set a match to it. _His mother, gone up in smoke_. He took the second one and did the same. _Mercedes, gone in a pile of ashes._ He kept burning these pictures of his family and friends one by one. _Strike, burn, Dad. Strike, burn, Finn and Carole. Strike, burn, New Directions. Strike, burn, strike, burn._ He held the final picture in his hands, a smiling picture of him from before this whole year happened. _Strike, burn…me._ Ashes of the photos of his past scattered around him, Kurt sat in the middle of that field. He lit a match and tossed it away from him, watching the grass catch fire. He lit another match, throwing it away from him again, in the opposite direction. He continued this until he was surrounded by a ring of fire. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to wait for the flames to find him and carry him home.

_There was still time, right?_

Puck drove along, feeling more and more desperate as each minute passed. What if he didn't reach Kurt on time? His blood would be on my hands, Puck thought. I have to find him, I just have to find him. The window was rolled down, and Puck breathed in the night air. Suddenly, he smelled it: smoke. Squinting against the rapidly darkening sky, he searched for the source of the smoke, hoping it would lead him to Kurt, and wasn't signaling car trouble. Then he saw it: smoke, off in the distance a little. Puck stepped on the gas a little harder, unwavering, hoping that he'd make it in time. Within minutes, he'd reached the place the smoke had been rising from. He parked his car crookedly in his hurry to save his friend, and saw a bright orange-and-yellow circle of fire in the middle of this open, abandoned field. "Kurt!" Puck screamed, running towards it as fast as his legs would take him.

Kurt stood up quickly. He was fighting to breathe off of the smoke. He looked around, surrounded by nothing but what he loved most: the flames. And in that moment, Kurt hated the flames. This is what they had made him do. Suddenly, Kurt did not want to die. He began to cry big-baby sobs, knowing that the end was coming, and he wasn't ready for it, not ready at all. He called out for somebody, anybody, in vain. Puck heard his cries and tore off even faster. "Kurt, Kurt!" He screamed over the roar of the flames. Kurt gasped between his sobs. "Puck! Oh, God, Puck, I don't wanna die! Oh, save me, oh…"

What could Puck really do? The flames surrounded Kurt on all four sides. Unless…unless…ah-ha! Puck spotted a side where the flames were lower than the rest of the circle. He took a deep breath, took a running stance, and ran like the wind, leaping over the fire as if it was a hurdle and Puck was at the state championship track meet. He flew into the circle, landing by Kurt's side, out of breath. "Puck," Kurt had tears streaming down his cheeks. "You came to save me." Puck looked at Kurt. "Of course I did." He picked Kurt up and took another breath. The flames were coming in even closer now, practically on top of them. Puck closed his eyes and ran for it. Once they were safely out, they collapsed in a heap, away from the raging fire that Kurt had set in his own rage and pain.

"What. The. Hell. Were. You. Thinking?" Puck gasped out between breaths.  
"I wanted to end it, I wanted to end it so bad," Kurt whimpered.

Puck, regaining his breath, reached for his cell.

**Puck: I've got Kurt. He's alive.**

**Rachel: Thank God, I'll tell Santana.**

_**Puck and Rachel have signed off**_

"Santana," Kurt said suddenly, sitting up straight.

"Is alive," Puck reassured him.

Kurt burst into tears. "I thought she was d-d-dead," he stammered, holding his head in his hands. "I thought she was d-d-d-dead!"

Puck held him close, causing Kurt to shudder. "She's going to be fine," he whispered. "And so will you, Kurt."

_And so they would, eventually. But first, they had some serious healing to do._

**Note2: That took over an hour to write! Whew! But I really hope you liked it. I'll post an epilogue tomorrow, and then start the sequel sometime next week, most likely…that is, if you want me to! **


	22. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Note: Here we go, guys! This is officially the end of "Playing With Fire". I will indeed be writing a sequel due to: A) popular demand and B) I can't just leave this story alone! Some of you expressed a desire to see some Puck/Kurt action…we will see, my dears, we will see. **

**Note2: I'll start "Phoenix" next week, as I have a paper to write for my film class this weekend, and I'd like to give this a rest for a few days. After all, I wrote 22 chapters in a row! One a day, for 22 days! I never write that much!**

_Epilogue_

Kurt was still huddled up against Puck, unable to talk or to think. Puck held him close, still in disbelief that all the events that had happened today actually happened. His ex-girlfriend was in the hospital, and his friend had just tried to kill himself by means of fire.

"P-P-P-Puck?" Kurt stuttered.

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"I'm s-s-s-sorry."

"We'll talk about this later, Kurt," Puck replied, sounding very much like a parent. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"No…hospital…must go see Santana, must go see Santana," Kurt mumbled incomprehensively.

Puck frowned. "Buddy, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Want to see Santana," Kurt muttered, getting to his feet and staggering over towards Puck's truck. "Must go to Santana."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, we'll go see Santana."

They drove to the hospital in silence. Kurt was curled up in a ball in the backseat, not sure what was happening. He felt as if he was in a dream, that this was all just one terrible nightmare and that any minute now his Patti LuPone alarm clock would go off. Puck occasionally stole a glance at him in the rearview mirror, unable to see what emotions passed Kurt's face due to the now inky-black sky. He knew what he had to do, and he knew that this one wouldn't be easy, even though it was the right choice.

"We're here," he unceremoniously announced as he parked in that familiar visitor's lot. Hadn't they been there just weeks earlier? Except, that time, it had been Kurt driving and being stoic and unnerving. That time, their roles had been reversed. How could things have changed so dramatically in just a few weeks?

Kurt charged out of the car and straight for the room that they'd moved Santana to.

"Kurt!" Santana cried out as he ran into the room. "Thank God, oh, thank God," she started to sob. He walked right over to her bed and tried to hug her around all of the bandages keeping her together.

"Santana," he whispered into her nightgown. "You're okay. You're okay."

Puck took the opportunity to find the rest of the gang, who were hanging out in the cafeteria, waiting to go home. Rachel stood up immediately. "Where's Kurt?"

"He's with Santana. Guys, Kurt tried to kill himself tonight."

Tina's hand flew up to her mouth. "My God," she whispered. "I told you he was going to do something!" She jabbed a finger at Mike, who looked down, ashamed.

"How?" Artie managed to gasp out, still reveling in the fact that his oldest friend attempted suicide without his knowledge.

"Fire," Puck looked down. "He tried to burn himself to death."

"No," Rachel whispered. "No…"

Puck's silence told them he wasn't kidding.

"So what do we do now?" Mike asked.

"I'm telling the nurses. Or his stepmom or something. Someone who'll get him help. He needs some time in a psych ward, I think." With that, he walked off to the pay phones. He'd left his cell behind in the melee that had ensued earlier. It had probably melted by now. He dropped in a quarter and dialed the Hummel's number.

"Hi, Carole? It's Puck. I'm fine, thanks. But I have something to tell you…about Kurt…"

Meanwhile, the doctors were busy talking to Santana's parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, we found several cuts on your daughter's wrists. Tomorrow, we'll set an appointment for her to talk to a psychologist, who might suggest that Santana check into our juvenile psychiatric ward for a little while."

They nodded silently. If it would help their only daughter, so be it.

Santana and Kurt clung to each other in her tiny hospital room. "We'll get through this together," she whispered, stroking his hair. "We'll heal together."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

And for the first time, Kurt believed someone when they spoke those two words to him.

_End_

**Note2: **

**What you can expect from "Phoenix":**

**-Puck/Kurt friendship develops, potential Puck/Kurt romance**

**-Santana's childhood revealed**

**-Kurt's post-mother-death childhood revealed**

**-More song numbers, including an amusing rendition of "Rehab" by the kids in the psych ward**

"_**Like a phoenix, Kurt would rise from the ashes."**_


End file.
